


It All Comes Down to This

by lifeaftermeteor



Series: Life After Meteor [16]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: BROTPs abound, F/M, Gen, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Endless Waltz, Post-Series, Preventers (Gundam Wing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 20,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeaftermeteor/pseuds/lifeaftermeteor
Summary: The colonial independence vote is on for December, AC 208, and the ESUN spends the year preparing for the event which will determine the course of history.  But smaller triumphs and challenges are met on the road to the vote.  Trowa has grown restless with the Circus and is presented a new opportunity.  Quatre's misgivings about the future lead him to revisit an old adage.  Wufei and Relena take a much needed break.  As the vote draws closer, tragedy strikes and shakes the group to its core.  In the aftermath, Heero and Duo come to terms with themselves and their relationship and Wufei is offered an opportunity.  In the end, however, it is the delegates at the General Assembly who hold the fate of the Earth Sphere in their hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 16 of the [Life After Meteor series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/391015), which trails the Gundam Pilots (and others) through the years post-war. Welcome comments/feedback.
> 
> Also I continue to owe an unending debt of gratitude to [tumbledrylemur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledrylemur/) for the beta reading. This monster of a series is better for all your help - I couldn't do it without you. <3

**President’s Suite  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **26 January 208**

Duo sighed and leaned forward over his terminal, burying his face in his hands.  After a brief respite over the holidays, the push for allies in the independence vote had come roaring back with a vengeance.  If he had to field one more snarky email out of some junior staffer at the ESUN General Assembly, he may actually murder someone.

Or at least take up drinking.

 _But that may have already happened,_ Duo reflected.  The office liquor cabinet had grown exponentially since September’s announcement of the schedule for December.  A bitter laugh escaped his lips at the thought and he straightened. Against his better judgment, he checked the clock display on his monitor and suppressed a groan.

“Go home.”

Turning to look back over his shoulder, Duo found Analyn Mendoza, their Chief of Staff, hovering nearby.  “I can’t,” he replied, fearing he sounded petulant and perhaps a bit defensive. The woman was one to talk.  Duo was convinced the woman ran on caffeine and vindictiveness.  He added, “I’ve got staffers to flay and alliances to build.”

Mendoza snorted and shook her head.  “And miles to go before you sleep,” she quipped as she walked over to lean against the vacant desk next to his.  “How many hours this week?”

Duo laughed at her.  “Eh...no comment.”

“Fine.  How many do we have in our court?”

Duo picked up the notepad next to his arm and leaned back in his chair as he skimmed the depressingly short list of names and offices.  “Not enough,” he said flatly. “I have a call with the Disarmament Committee staff tomorrow. Global governance is out of their lane, but…”

“But they have Darlian.”

“To be blunt, yes.”  Duo tossed the notepad back onto his desk.  He loathed relying so heavily on the woman. He liked Relena, liked her a lot.  But, _Jesus Christ...no one person should have that kind of sway in the global order,_ and yet here they were.   _So what happens when her influence runs out?_  Relena had been a staunch ally in their efforts to get to ‘yes’ to even _have_ a vote, but now they had to get to a ‘yes’ on independence.  Allowing colonial self-determination was a much harder battle, made ironically worse by the decade of peace.  The insidious notion that perhaps Earth and the colonies could continue the status quo, that the present arrangements weren’t _that_ bad, was taking root faster than they could fight it.  All of it fueled by the fear of the unknowable, he expected.   _Cowards_ , he thought with a grimace.

His boss read him like a book.  “We’ll get there, Duo. I promise,” she told him.  Her tone was startlingly earnest, heartfelt, which took him aback. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond.  Pushing away from the desk, the kindness evaporated into strictly business once more. “Please go home,” Mendoza instructed.  “Get some rest. We’ll start up again tomorrow.”


	2. Chapter 2

**A-44, south of Granada  
** **Sierra Nevada, Spain  
** **3 March 208**

Trowa eased the motorcycle slowly over onto the narrow shoulder of the winding highway and killed the engine.  Gravel crunched under his boots as he kicked the stand and dismounted, standing beside the bike. He removed his helmet to better look out over the mountains and the valley below.  The mountains that surrounded him were snow-capped still, though the temperature at this elevation was moderate, boasting warmer temperatures to come soon. The sunset behind him to the west had painted the landscape in soft reds.  He whistled to himself as he took it in, suddenly disappointed he hadn’t had the forethought to bring the camera.

But photography had not been the point of the ride.  The bike, his second refurbishment project, was nearing completion.  He had to test her limits before sending her off into the wilds. Glancing back at it, he considered her frame and the mechanisms beneath.  Still some work needed, he determined. The parts he had gotten to complete her engine were functional, but she rode...heavy, almost. Just another thing driving him toward custom parts.  Trowa sighed.

Looking back out at the landscape, he retreated to his thoughts.  In truth, the motorcycle had been more of an excuse to get away. A brief escape from the show.  He was growing restless, an odd revelation for someone already living the nomadic lifestyle. He blamed Management for that.  As their benevolent patriarch had finally put himself out to pasture, leadership had been handed down and divided amongst the troupe’s ‘elders’: their Ringmaster, one of the head roustabouts, and Catherine.  

It was the right decision, of course.  Between the three of them, the troupe would be safe and secure as far as finances and performance schedules were concerned.  But...

But he was never really one for ‘stability.’  It always felt like a lie somehow. Alien and unnatural, it bred holding patterns and a false sense of security.  You became reliant on it. And sooner or later…it was gone.

Hadn’t he himself also gotten complacent, though?  He considered the thought, turning it over and over in his head as he leaned back against the motorcycle.  Despite everything...despite all the hurt and crises...the Circus had been home base, if not ‘home’ per se.  A consistent job, reliable community. Stability.

Trowa pressed his lips together.  Maybe...maybe a change would do him some good...


	3. Chapter 3

**Research and Development Division, Winner Enterprises  
** **L4-V05001  
** **17 April 208**

Quatre closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingertips.  With a frustrated sigh, he waved his hand over the holographic table before him.  The vehicle design he had been working on evaporated, blue-tinted pixels fading like stardust.  He then glanced down at his watch, which only made him sigh again.

The insomnia had come back with a vengeance since the announcement of the colony vote.  His usual approach to correcting such issues was to come down to R&D to work himself to sleep on some project or another for the Preventers.  To their credit, the R&D team welcomed a fellow experimenter among their ranks—even when said individual was the WEI CEO they graciously did not hold against him.  But toying with designs in the deep sub-levels of WEI’s science park property was not quite doing the trick tonight.

_ Today _ , he corrected himself.  The colony would be starting its sunrise simulation within the next couple hours.  Shortly thereafter he would launch into a slew of meetings with industry partners and representatives on the Island Council to discuss the models he and others had run on the various courses of action the Middle Eastern States had presented for consideration. [1]  They were generous offers to be sure...but none of them were enough in Quatre’s opinion.

_ They’re looking at the wrong indicators, _ he mused silently.  The stakes had been pegged to global economic stability, which was no doubt a necessary factor, but the  _ real  _ stakes were much higher.  The real stakes meant war.  Perhaps not immediately, but certainly soon.  The presidential election had given the ESUN breathing space from the protests and strikes that had marred Reuson’s predecessor’s term.  But it was an intermission, not an end. Unless, of course, the colonies got their independence and recognition as sovereign states in their own right.

Otherwise…

As if to banish the dark thoughts from his mind, Quatre waved his hand over the table to bring it back to life.  Alone in the R&D division, he drilled down into the hidden and locked folders on the company server until he came to the one he was looking for.  The folder’s name was innocuous enough, but it held the cache of all his personal projects. He pulled up the first file and leaned back in his chair, letting nostalgia and the sharp bite of fear wash over him.

Wing Zero.

He had found the original blueprints in Instructor H’s files but he had made some...modifications of his own.  The suit had been designed to be the devourer of worlds, an angel of death and destruction.  _ And in Heero’s hands it saved the human race from itself not once, but twice, _ Quatre mused silently.  

Could such a thing become necessary again?

_ No,  _ he argued with himself.   _ No, the age of mobile suits is over. _  So determined, he waved away the Gundam and brought forth the goliath.  

The project was a massive, one at which he had been scratching away piece by piece and deck by deck.  The expense required to resource just one of the things would prevent its production.

A warship.  An  _ interplanetary  _ warship.

A leviathan which would never see action...or so he hoped.

_ Si vis pacem, para bellum _ . [2]

Leaning forward over the table, Quatre got to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder: the Alliance of Middle Eastern States (with heavy financial reinforcement from the Winner family) are responsible for the L4 cluster in LAM!verse
> 
> [2] Si vis pacem, para bellum: If you want peace, prepare for war. Quatre has a soft spot for the quote. Readers may remember he had told Wufei [he wanted the phrase on his travel documents](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5766829/chapters/13291240).


	4. Chapter 4

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **31 May 208**

On the other side of his desk, Heero’s vidscreen terminal chirped insistently.  Glancing up from his journal, he squinted at the name that blinked in bold typeface above where he had docked his mobile:  **_DUO_ ** the text flashed.

Setting his pen down, he slid his chair over and answered the call.  “Hi,” he said, as Duo appeared on the screen. His boyfriend had a wild look about him, which usually meant he was flustered and running on fumes.  His suit jacket was gone, but a tie was still secured around his neck. His arms were braced on the desk he was leaning over, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  The room behind him was most definitely not his apartment.  _ Work call _ , Heero assessed.

“Where is she?”

Heero blinked.  “You’ll have to be more specific.  There are several women in my life.”

Duo snorted and replied, “I’ll let that set up go.  You know who.”

“I’ve officially passed the baton with regard to tracking her whereabouts.  You know that.”

“I know.  And he’s not answering either.”

Heero fought a grin as he did some mental timezone math.  After a moment, he said, “Come on a journey with me.”

“Wha—?”

“Come on,” he repeated.  He pulled the mobile from its docking station, the video feed transferring to the smaller screen in his hand.  He then turned the camera from him to face outward. He held the device eye-level as he walked out of his bedroom and down the hall.  He scanned the common area, which stood dark and quiet, before heading back down the hall toward Wufei’s room. On the mobile, he heard Duo say, “I’m not liking the looks of this…”

At the threshold of Wufei’s room, Heero hit the lights and stepped inside.  The space was tidy, all straight-pressed lines and muted colors. The only sign of clutter around the bookcase, Wufei’s collection of reading material having quickly out-paced his storage space.

“Now, I’m no crime scene investigator,” Heero began as he crossed to Wufei’s desk.  Upon approach, he zoomed in on the ‘Iceland’ tour guide that resided there, abandoned in packing.  “But I’d say this might be a clue.”

“Oh my God…” came the belabored groan from the device in Heero’s hand.  

Heero flipped the mobile’s camera back around to face him.  Duo had hung his head in clear defeat. He watched the other man’s shoulders heave a deep sigh.  “I’m afraid you’re on your own,” Heero said, apologetic.

“If I lose this because they spent the recess running around glaciers, I will be  _ very  _ bitter, just so you know.”  

Heero shook his head.  “You’re not going to lose.  Period,” he said with utter certainty.  Crossing back to the doorway, he turned off the lights in Wufei’s room and moved toward his own.  

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Duo said.

“I am,” Heero told him.  “You’re in the President’s Office.  And what’s more—you’re  _ you _ .  You’re resourceful.  You’ll figure it out.”  Even as he said it, he was watching the gears turn in Duo’s head.  They turned fast. It made him smile.

“Right,” Duo said, refocusing on Heero.  “New plan.” He moved to disconnect the line, but hesitated.  “I’ll call you later?”

“I’ll be awake.”

Duo nodded with a grin and ended the call.


	5. Chapter 5

**Reykjavík, Iceland  
** **4 June 208**

“Are you going to talk like a pirate today again?” Wufei asked, not bothering to look up from his breakfast.

There was a moment’s heavy pause.  And then, “Arr,” came by way of reply.  

Wufei snorted and rolled his eyes.  His response only brought forth a bout of amused laughter from the woman before him, an infectious sound that made her sound younger than her years and made him smile.  He hid the reaction by taking a drink from his coffee cup.

Relena and he had both spent the weeks leading up to their vacation devouring reading material on Iceland—its history, its geography, its culture—and Wufei would be lying to himself if it hadn’t in part been so they could one-up each other in discussions, pulling obscure facts and figures from the back of their minds.  Relena had been particularly taken with the Barbary pirate raids in the 1600s CE. They’d worked a small museum dedicated to the events into their itinerary and she had been tormenting him with swashbuckling nonsense ever since. [1]

After breakfast, they would be leaving the city, heading southbound along the ring road.  They would spend the rest of their time mostly outside of urban areas and Wufei was anxious to get going...even if he was a bit curious to see all of what Relena had planned.  His job had been to book their lodging and find places to eat; she had handled the rest. Of today’s events, he knew only that they’d be heading to some waterfall north of Highway 1 and then onward to hike volcanoes whose names he still had difficulty pronouncing. [2] Afterward, they’d overnight in Vik.  When she had had time to plot viable excursions, he had yet to figure out, but he knew better than to question any of her decisions on the matter.

He had, however, questioned her lack of disguise, at least at first.  He had tried to gently broach the subject early on in their planning and she had waved off his concerns.  He had assumed at the time that that had meant she would take a page out of Quatre’s book and show up as a redhead or perhaps a brunette.  He had therefore had a bit of a shock when she arrived at the airport as honey blond as ever. At immigration he had watched her flash a conspiratorial grin at the officer...who had done the same to her and waved her through without incident.  But his anxiety had only relinquished its vice-like grip on his heart once they were at dinner in the middle of the city enjoying their meal unaccosted.  _ Miraculous _ , he had thought and had finally breathed a sigh of deep relief.  He had then buried his remaining doubts beneath the Reykjavík sidewalks as they had walked back to their hotel hand-in-hand.

He had woken up beside her for the subsequent three days, the smell of her hair, the sound of her breathing washing over him in comforting waves as sunlight crept into their hotel room.  They would then spend the daylight hours flitting about the city, hardly half a step apart from one another. Occasionally he felt like he was teetering on the edge of the surreal, the proximity and casual openness allowing him to think for a time that they were just...people.

There was a featherlight touch at his wrist where it rested on the table, bringing him back to the present.  Looking up, he found Relena’s blue eyes studying him. “What are you thinking about?” she asked quietly.

He watched her for a time.  In reply, he turned his hand over, palm up in invitation.  

She took it without hesitation, twining their fingers together.  With a reassuring smile, she asked, “Ready to go?”

Wufei felt the corners of his mouth twitch in a small smile of his own and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Thanks go to [simulacraryn](http://archiveofourown.org/users/simulacraryn/pseuds/simulacraryn) for the pirates idea. Unfortunately for readers, I cannot find any pirate museum in Iceland at present, much less one near Reykjavík. Creative license deployed!
> 
> [2] For those of you interested in checking out Iceland’s volcano hikes, [here’s a useful guide](https://www.sixt.is/travelling-in-iceland/the-icelandic-volcano-guide/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Cirque Ste-Croix  
** **Budapest, Hungary  
** **12 June 208**

With some trepidation, Trowa took the small wooden steps up to Cathy’s trailer and rapped on the door with his knuckles.  When she answered in greeting, he opened the door and ducked his head inside.

Scattered about the small living quarters was the Circus’ new management team.  Cathy sat primly on one side of the sofa while James, the senior and thus de facto leader of the roustabouts, sat on the other.  Their Ringmaster completed the triumvirate on a folding chair opposite.

“You wanted to see me?” Trowa asked, hesitating in the doorway.

“Yes, come in,” Cathy urged.

Trowa stepped into the trailer, closing the door behind him, and waited.  Thankfully, he did not have to wait long.

“We’ve been approached by a scout from one of the larger companies,” the Ringmaster informed him.  “They’re looking for fresh blood to take on in the form of a sabbatical of sorts.” The man shrugged dismissively, as if he doubted anyone would be offering such a program without some ulterior motive.  But then he said, “They’re interested in _you_.”

“I don’t know anything about this,” Trowa was quick to assure them.  To be honest, he was not sure what to make of the proposal. If it was a proposal and they hadn’t already made the decision for him.

Cathy shook her head.  “The scout came to us before the show.  They think you have a lot of potential.”

“They’d pay your room and board,” James said, “and in exchange you’d work with them at one of their static locations for a year.”

“A _year_?” Trowa echoed, not quite able to keep the surprise from his voice.  A year was a long time. Across the room, he watched Cathy press her lips into a thin line.

“Yes, a year,” the Ringmaster confirmed, “and then you’d come back to us.  We’d integrate what you learn into new acts of our own. But this opportunity begins this autumn—September to be precise—so if we’re to take advantage of it, we need to decide soon.”

Before Trowa could reply, Cathy intervened.  “Gentlemen, can I have a minute alone with my brother?”  

Her gray eyes stayed locked with Trowa’s own as the older men filed out without much more than banal pleasantries.   _They clearly have come to recognize the precursor to a Sibling Discussion_ , Trowa thought, fighting a dark grin.

“Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Don’t be difficult.”

“But it’s what I _do_.” From across the room, he watched her sigh deeply and roll her eyes.

“Fine.  Suit yourself.”  Clasping her hands in her lap, Cathy said, “I know you’ve been frustrated.  And restless. For awhile the moving was enough. The stunts were enough. The tooling around, with the motorcycle or the camera, was enough.  But it’s not anymore. Is it?”

The question was rhetorical.  Trowa broke away from her steady, knowing gaze and let his eyes fall to the floor, unable to dispute her assessment.  She wasn’t wrong; he had just thought he’d done a better job hiding his growing agitation.

Cathy pressed on.  “This...might be good for you.  As a pressure release valve if nothing else.  A change of scenery, new people to get to know…”

“Do you want me to leave?” Trowa asked her.  He wasn’t entirely sure why he asked, or why he was so concerned about the prospect of her answer.

“If it was up to me, no,” Cathy answered and then he did look up at her.  Her gaze was soft, forgiving...if perhaps a bit amused. “But it’s not up to me; it’s up to you.  That’s what we were discussing when you entered. What do _you_ want?”

Trowa worried the flesh on the inside of his cheek between his teeth for a moment.  That question. Oh, he’d come to hate that question. He murmured, “What if I don’t know?”

“It’s okay not to know.  But maybe a change will do you some good.”  Standing, he ran her hands over her shorts to straighten the rumpled fabric as she walked toward him.  She took his face in her hands and brought his gaze back to her own. “Go. For a year. And then come back to us.”

“And what if I don’t want to come back?” he asked her.  

He noted her smile didn’t falter.  “Then you don’t. But I hope you’ll swing by to at least say goodbye before you start your next adventure.  Can you do that for me?”

Trowa breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

**Various Locations  
** **Iceland  
** **12-26 June 208**

Relena leaned back against a rocky outcropping to contemplate the wall of ice before her.  Ribbons of gray streaked across the glacier’s face, sediment trapped in time, drawn in who knew when from who knew where to be deposited somewhere else with the glacial melt.  It was quite beautiful.  _ Land of ice and fire indeed _ , she thought.

Crossing her ankles, she took a sip of the hot water in her thermos and watched Wufei’s progress.  The man had taken her camera and had wandered up the ice flow, pausing every now and then to snap photos.  She’d been the saner of the two of them, staying put, and could only shake her head in mild exasperation. A certain degree of risk-taking was par for the course she supposed, given who was vacationing with her.

Reluctantly taking her eyes off of Wufei, she observed the cluster of vacationers off to her left.  Some young, some old. Some clearly roughing it, others less so judging by the motorcoach parked downhill.  It was a good cross-section, Relena decided with a smile.

As she turned back to Wufei, and older couple came up beside her, their boots crunching in the gravel to her left.

“He’s going to fall into one of those fissures if he’s not careful,” said the woman, sounding more frustrated than concerned, as if she’d spent too many years watching the folly of young men to be surprised by much of anything nowadays.

Relena snorted into her thermos at the thought, promptly choking on her water as she did so.  Coughing and sputtering, she watched the couple turn their combined attention onto her. “Are you alright, dear?” the man asked.  Relena nodded and waved off his concern. Before she could say anything further, however, he pointed up the glacier towards Wufei.  “Do you know him?”

Grinning, Relena replied brightly, “No, never seen him in my life.”

*****

_ I’ve learned quite a lot during this vacation, _ Relena thought as she watched the clouds roll in from the west from her seat curled in a chair by their cabin window.  Taking a sip of tea from the mug cradled between her hands, she ticked things off to herself. The basalt columns they’d climbed on had formed from contractional joints as lava flows had cooled.  The Hidden Folk could be blamed for any inexplicable unfortunate event. The island was well overdue for another major volcanic eruption. She suspected the country had the longest-running democracy, having been established in 930 CE...

Oh, and Wufei liked getting his hair pulled during sex.  He could also do some rather impressive tricks with his tongue.  Where he’d learned them, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know but was grateful for it nonetheless.

Relena fought a smile as she felt her cheeks flush at the thought.  She brought a hand up to her lips, hiding her reaction behind her curled fingers lest she give herself away.  

It was then that the man in question emerged freshly showered from the bathroom.  He had stopped shaving a couple days into their trip at her behest. It brought back memories of the photos he’d shared from Xinjiang and made him look worldly and rugged...and freer too, perhaps.  As if neglecting this small daily routine had allowed him to shake off some unseen burden of decorum and others’ expectations. It gave her a glimpse into what he could be if he weren’t a Preventer agent, something which she treasured.

“I know we have dinner plans,” she began, feeling mischievous.  Drawing his attention to her, she continued, “And I realize you just put pants on.  But I thought you should know that I’m already concocting ways to get you back  _ out  _ of them.”

She watched the surprised look on Wufei’s face evolve into something that was far more playful.  He smirked which she returned with a conniving grin of her own. He took slow strides in her direction and she allowed herself to watch him walk, all lean muscle and quiet confidence.  

Standing before her, he bent to brace his hands on the armrests and murmured, “That can be arranged, you know,” before closing the remaining distance to kiss her.

*****

Relena had spent the bulk of their trip searching in vain for puffins.  They had known going into it that an excursion to the smaller island sanctuaries was not in the cards, given their allotted time together, but she had searched nonetheless.  Wufei for his part had begun to classify the bird as a cryptid. Everyone seemed to know somewhere to see them, or someone who would hunt them, but the bird itself had yet to make an appearance.

Now, as they took lunch in the Westfjords near  Látrabjarg, Wufei eyed the cliffs with suspicion.   _ I wonder… _  Standing, he dusted his hands off and took up Relena’s camera.  

“What is it?” she asked glancing up from their small picnic.

“I’ll be back,” he told her and headed off toward the cliff’s edge.

“Be careful, please…”

He raised a hand to acknowledge the comment but said nothing.  He knew he had unnerved her more than once this trip and had been surprised by her tolerance for his lack of self-preservation.  Such as now. Crouching near the edge, he lay flat and shimmied out over the cliff-face. What he saw made him grin. “Got you,” he murmured, and brought the camera forward, holding the shutter button as he captured birds in flight.

Evidence secured, Wufei shimmied back until he could once more safely stand.  As he headed back to his traveling companion and their picnic, Relena seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as he did so.  Sitting down beside her, he brought up the pictures he’d taken. Water crashing on the rocks below, ocean sprays...and little white dots in the water and roosting in the crevices worn into the cliff itself.  “There you go,” he told her, passing the camera over so she could get a better look, “puffins.”

“Bullshit,” she shot back, grinning as she flipped through the images.  “You don’t know those are puffins.”

“What else could they be?” he challenged, resuming his lunch.

“Gulls.”

He snorted and shook his head.  “Believe what you want, but I know what I saw.  I’m sorry that I seem to have joined some elite puffin-witness circle here in Iceland which you are not privy to.”

“Jerk,” she said as she set aside the camera, but she was smiling.  

Perhaps it was serendipitous then that after they had checked into the next bed and breakfast and wandered into town to find dinner, puffin was on the menu. [1]  Wufei laughed at this, and then laughed harder when Relena ordered the bird for dinner.

Afterwards, he nodded at her plate and asked, “How was your puffin sighting?”

“Delicious,” she replied, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Iceland is the [only country](http://www.huntingiceland.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=5&Itemid=9) where you can legally hunt puffins (as of 2018). The practice has come under scrutiny [in recent years](https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/uncertain-future-puffin-dinner-180961829/) as seabird populations (to include the puffin) have been declining due to environmental and ecological factors.


	8. Chapter 8

**Exact Location Unknown  
** **Near Lake Victoria, Uganda  
** **23 July 208**

_ Bomb _ .

It was the first thing that registered as Duo pulled himself back to his senses.  The smell of smoke and gasoline was jarring. His ears were ringing. He could taste blood on his tongue.  As his sense of gravity returned, he realized he was lying face-down against the door of their overturned jeep.   _ Fuckin’ commercial seatbelts,  _ the voice in his head grumbled.

Planting his hands on either side of his shoulders, he pushed up and away from the door…and cried out as bright, screaming pain lept into stark relief as something that felt impossibly long slid from his abdomen.  Duo looked down and his heart sank. Bright red blood painted an exposed twist of metal from the jeep’s frame that had bent inward in the crash.

_ Fifteen minutes if you’re lucky _ .  The thought tasted bitter.  _ Longest anyone survived being shish-kabobbed without immediate medical attention was something like 20 minutes _ .  He took a shuddering breath as he tried to slow his heart rate, pushing himself back onto his heels as he covered the open wound with his left hand.  _ I’ll make it 30 _ , he vowed.

Standing in the jeep’s back seat, he checked the pulse of first his driver and then his fellow passenger who miraculously still hung suspended from her seat belt.  He found nothing in either. The discovery instilled something like resigned determination in his chest as he reached past his seatmate and shoved open the car door.  Reaching up, he shimmied past the dead woman and hauled himself up and out of the vehicle. Crouching on top of the jeep, Duo assessed the rest of the delegation’s status.  

The caravan was in disarray, dust still settling from the attack.   _ Wasn’t out long then,  _ he thought, which brought some comfort.  Down the line, he could see their security detail with the President and his family, one of the armed men already making an extraction call from the looks of it.  The staff had been left to pull their own teams out and away from the wreck that was their motorcade, it seemed.

A plume of black smoke was growing further down the line.  He dropped down onto the road, wincing at the flare of pain from his midsection.  “Fuck,” he hissed between his teeth as he stood and then staggered down the line of vehicles.  

Left hand still secured over his bleeding abdomen, Duo stumbled to a halt by one of the black vehicles that had been flipped completely over onto its roof.  Channeling his ebbing strength, he kicked in the passenger door window and knelt to the ground. The one conscious passenger inside was near hysterics. “I can hear it, I can hear it!” she shrieked when Duo’s face came into view through the broken window.

_ What can she hear?  _ he wondered, confused.   _ The fire,  _ he realized, berating himself for the cognitive delay.   _ Blood loss.  Shock _ , his brain supplied, though the response was too delayed and too fuzzy for his comfort.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he assured her, reaching through the window.  “I’ve got you. Come on.” As he pulled her from the vehicle, he registered others coming to their aid.  More hands, more strength, more safety in numbers.

Once the vehicle’s occupants had been extracted, Duo moved on.  Again and again, pulling broken, shaken bodies out of hunks of twisted metal.  Some alive, and left for medical assistance; some not, and abandoned once he could check their pulse.  

“Duo!”

He turned sharply at the voice, not liking how the world tilted and spun before his eyes.  He reached out an arm to keep his balance and a man’s hand took hold of him at his elbow. Blinking his eyes to clear his vision he found himself in front of the President.  “You’re okay,” he observed.

Reuson nodded.  His lip was split and his head was bleeding.  “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

“We have to get out of here,” Duo heard himself say, but the words didn’t make sense; his mind was too fuzzy.

“Authorities are on their way,” Reuson nodded emphatically, taking Duo by his arms.

“You’re okay,” Duo repeated.

Reuson frowned.  Pulling aside Duo’s jacket, he found the thick trail of blood leading from the wound in his abdomen down his left leg. Duo watched the older man’s eyes widen in horror, and, at some level, heard him shout for his wife.   _ She’s a doctor, _ some part of his brain reminded him.  Didn’t matter much now though.  _ They’re safe _ …  Closing his eyes, Duo collapsed against the older man.  He felt Reuson’s large arms wrap around his body as they both fell to the ground together.    _ And thus do all things return to the earth _ , some part of him spoke.   _ 20 is a good number… _


	9. Chapter 9

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **23 July 208**

The day was just beginning in New York City.  Wufei turned on the television in the living room as he moved through the apartment towards the kitchen to pour himself some coffee.  Heero was already in the bathroom getting ready. With the audio from one of the news channels in the background, Wufei let muscle memory take over as he continued getting ready.

“—breaking news coming from Uganda.  The President’s caravan has been attacked—”

Wufei dropped the coffee cup in the sink with such force he was amazed it didn’t shatter upon impact.  He bolted from the kitchen and skidded around the corner. An aerial view of had been the caravan of black diplomatic vehicles greeted him in all of their burning, smoking ruin on the screen across the living area.

“—series of roadside bombs were detonated as the caravan passed just north of Lake Victoria en route to the regional base—”

_ “Heero!”  _ Wufei shouted at his roommate, not taking his eyes from the newsfeed.  Taking several long steps toward the television, he increased the volume and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What?”

_ “Get in here!” _

He heard footfalls moments before Heero rounded the corner from the front hall, still buttoning his shirt.  He shot Wufei a confused and possibly indignant glare…until he turned his attention to the television screen before them.

“—Several members of the staff has been airlifted to nearby hospitals for immediate medical attention.  Though names have not been released, we have been notified that the President and his family have only suffered minor injuries.  Let me reiterate: the President and his family are safe.”

Dragging his eyes away from the alert, Wufei grabbed his roommate’s arm and shook Heero’s attention loose.  “Get your stuff,” he ordered, “and try to get ahold of him. I’m going to make travel arrangements for you.” 


	10. Chapter 10

**Relena Darlian’s Office, Earth Sphere United Nations  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **23 July 208**

Relena read the alert again and again, as if  _ this time  _ it would offer some new revelation: President’s delegation attacked.  Staff casualties confirmed.

**_What_ ** _ casualties?   _ Of that, there was no information.  Abandoning her office, she turned down the hall and headed for the briefing spaces, falling into step alongside other staffers.  As she did so, however, she withdrew her personal phone and tapped out a quick note to Wufei.  _ D? _ it asked.  She clutched the device like a lifeline, willing him to answer.

The mobile buzzed promptly in her hand.  Opening the message, she read Wufei’s equally direct reply:  _ We don’t know.  H en route. _

Pulling off to the side of the hallway, Relena braced a hand against the wall.  Staring down at the message, the alert’s words flashed in her head.  _ Staff casualties confirmed. _

_ Oh, Duo… _

She took a steadying breath and straightened.  “They will have evacuated back to Kampala. The base wouldn’t have the necessary medical facilities,” she murmured to herself, knowing Wufei would have already deduced as much.  In reply, she wrote,  _ I’ll figure out what hospital they took staff to. _

Stepping back into the flow of traffic, she started creating lists of names.  Those who could help her...those who owed her...and those who might know who dropped the fucking ball.


	11. Chapter 11

**Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean  
** **En Route to Uganda  
** **23 July 208**

Heero stared down at his mobile, willing it to give him some peace of mind. [1]  It refused, and he was left to choke down yet another wave of fear. Real fear, made worse by the trapped helplessness that had wrapped itself around his stomach.

Only hours ago he had packed a bag and took a cab to JFK, leaving Wufei in their apartment to finalize Heero’s travel details.  Upon arrival at the airport, he had tickets to Kampala and was expedited through security thanks to Wufei’s forethought in attaching his Preventers credentials to the ticket.  Heero had boarded the plane moments before the cabin door closed and they took off without incident.

And still no word from Duo.

Closing his eyes, Heero dropped his head back against the chair and took a deep breath.  Working himself up into a panic would serve no purpose and would help no one. He needed to stay calm, focused.  But then a desperate thought came to the forefront of his mind.

_Please don’t take him._

Disjointed images flashed behind his eyelids.  Duo and silver medallions and patron saints of lost causes.  A rosary tightly wound around a calloused fist. Makeshift altars.  Candles and marigolds. And again the invasive thought, now pleading.   _Please don’t take him.  Not yet._ But whose favor he sought to garner, Heero didn’t know.  Perhaps it didn’t matter. Another voice, belonging to a child hurt by too much pain in too few years, whispered up from buried memories, _La Muerte always wins._

_Not today_ , Heero thought, blinking his eyes open to stare up at the overhead panel without really seeing it.   _Not this time, dammit._

His phone vibrated then on the tray table and he snatched it up, unlocking the screen with trembling fingers.  A new email had appeared from ‘RED.’ _Relena_.  [2]

\----------------------------------------------------------------

From: RED (user.RED@sat-2.net) [3]  
To: user01@sat-2.net  
CC: user05@sat-2.net

Subject: SITREP

D at IH Kampala. Switchboard making calls. Security knows you’re coming.

R

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Although the FCC has [barred use of cellphones on flights](https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-switch/wp/2017/04/10/the-fcc-is-reversing-its-proposal-to-allow-cellphone-use-on-planes/) as of April 2017, access to in-flight wifi is increasing and it’s reasonable to assume that there will come a time that in-flight calls are the norm.
> 
> [2] Regarding “RED,” Relena’s middle name in LAM!verse Elizabeth, hence the initials.
> 
> [3] I haven’t listed email addresses for [a long time now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5783860/chapters/13329727) (maybe I should go back through and fix that). As a point of order, the pilots still have personal email addresses tied to a communications satellite which Trowa hacked. They still use them in times of crisis, or when more secure communications are necessary. Hilde has one too, and since AC 207 Relena does as well.


	12. Chapter 12

**Winner Family Compound  
** **L4-V05001  
** **23 July 208**

“Thanks for calling.  It’s all over the news,” Trowa said through the phone.  His voice held more static than usual which suggested the communications network was overloading.   _ Understandable, _ Quatre thought.  Trowa then asked, “Do we know anything...about Duo?”  

Quatre shook his head, though the man on the phone couldn’t see him.  He paced a small circle in the center of his study. “I just finished talking with Wufei.  There’s been no word on him. Or  _ from  _ him.  Relena has found out where they’ve taken the staff.  Heero’s on his way there now.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“No, not yet,” Quatre answered, wrapping his arms around himself.  He felt exposed and could feel the tremors begin, the hitch in his breath as his self control failed.  Crossing to the far wall, he wedged himself into the vacant corner next to the bookcase and slid down to the floor.  Once seated, he curled his long legs up to his chest and pressed a shaking hand to his lips, struggling to breathe normally.  

On the phone, Trowa prompted, “Quatre?”  He sounded nervous.

“I can’t hear him, Trowa,” Quatre said at last, gasping.  “I can’t  _ feel  _ him.”

There was a split second pause, before the man on the other end of the line asserted, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does.  You know it does.”  Quatre inhaled sharply, hating the tears that rolled down his cheeks.  He extended his arm, holding the phone away from him as he used his other hand to rub at his eyes.  The tears didn’t stop and the shaking in his hands had spread through the rest of him, each tremor accompanied by a horrific, fearful ache in his chest.   _ It’s so quiet.  Too quiet. You’re never this quiet, Duo... _

“Quat?  Quatre?” Trowa’s voice was urgent from where it called him from the mobile in his hand.  

Reluctantly, Quatre brought the device back to his ear.  “I’m here,” he murmured.

“Don’t give up, Quatre,” Trowa urged, his words soothing.  “We don’t know anything yet. Have faith. We’ll know more soon.”  

Quatre took a deep breath and closed his eyes to the world.  Wrapping his free hand around his bent knees, he ducked his head and wept quietly, clinging to the lifeline that tethered him to Trowa.


	13. Chapter 13

**International Hospital  
** **Kampala, Uganda  
** **24 July 208**

Upon arrival at IH Kampala, Heero had taken long strides to the check-in desk.  He was met with a pleasant-faced woman in blue scrubs who greeted him with a calm reassurance that he assumed landed her the job in the first place.  “How can I help you?”

“My name’s Heero Yuy and I’m looking for a patient who was brought in yesterday.  I’m his next of kin.”

The woman nodded, fingers already poised over the computer keys before her.  “His name?”

“Maxwell.  First name Duo.”

She keyed in the name and reviewed the results.  “Are you sure he was brought here?” she asked. 

“He came in with the President’s staff,” Heero told her.

This gave her pause as she looked up from the computer.  Turning in her chair she picked up a phone off to her right and made a quick call.  She gave his name to the person on the other line and waited. After a moment she replied, “Okay,” and hung up.  To Heero she directed, “Wait right here please.”

Heero nodded and stepped aside, glancing about the waiting area.  He didn’t have to wait long. A man in a dark suit appeared down the hall from some side corridor out of Heero’s line of sight.  Approaching Heero, he prompted, “Your badge, Agent.”

Heero pulled his Preventers credentials from his jacket and offered it to the man, who flipped it open and reviewed it closely.  It gave a chance for Heero to do the same to him. The man was strong, likely armed judging from how his suit hung on his torso.  _ Security _ , Heero determined.  

“Follow me,” the man instructed, turning to head back the way he had come, still clutching Heero’s identification in his hand.

They moved along a disorienting maze of hallways, passing through double doors again and again until the flow of people, staff and otherwise, began to thin and more dark suited-men and women like Heero’s escort appeared.  They finally reached another check-in desk and the man passed Heero’s badge over to the attendant. “Mr. Maxwell’s next of kin,” the man said, and then—mission complete—disappeared from Heero’s side.

The attendant nodded, studying the Preventers badge a moment before logging the information into the computer before him.  He then returned the badge and hailed a passing nurse. “Namono, this is Mr. Yuy. He’s Mr. Maxwell’s next of kin.” 

“Ah, good,” the nurse replied, extending a hand which Heero shook.  “I was just heading that way. Come with me,” she instructed and Heero fell into step as she whisked them down the hall.  

“How is he?” Heero asked as they walked.  

“Prognosis is good.  I’ll start with that,” the nurse assured him.  “He’s recovering in the ICU and has been intubated since coming out of an eight-hour surgery.  We’ll keep him under observation for a few days and if all goes well, we’ll transfer him out for the rest of his hospital stay.”

“What happened?” Heero pressed as they rounded a corner.

“Mr. Maxwell was airlifted to the hospital from the site of the event.  He had suffered a penetrating abdominal injury. Through the spleen, as it happens, which means he is a lucky one.  The surgeon removed the organ [1] and repaired the vascular damage. He bled quite a bit, and his heart struggled throughout—”

Heero’s stride faltered at this and the woman beside him paused in the hall, reaching out to take his arm.  Looking him in the eyes, she assured, “He is stable  _ now _ .  As stable as he can be, given what he’s been through.  We’re monitoring him very closely, but as I said, his prognosis is good.”  Heero could only nod in reply. The nurse accepted his acknowledgement and continued forward.  Stepping behind a curtain, she led him to the foot of Duo’s bed. 

The sight shook him.   _ Attached _ , came to Heero’s mind.  A plastic tube had been secured in his mouth, connected to a ventilator off to the side of the bed, helping him breathe as he slept.  This was accompanied by more tubes and wires that monitored his progress. As the nurse beside him went about her duties, Heero stepped forward and with a trembling hand curled his fingertips under Duo’s, careful not to disturb the mechanisms that surrounded the man.  Taking a shuddering breath, Heero closed his eyes and could think only,  _ Not this time, not this time, not this time... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Did you know you can totally live without a spleen? I did not! Thanks [Kangofu_CB](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB) for that useful medical factoid!


	14. Chapter 14

**Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **30 July 208**

Sally stood leaning against the small conference table with her arms crossed over her chest as she watched the Director’s testimony.   _ More like a bloodbath _ , she thought as the man was grilled by ESUN Oversight Committee members and other representatives.  The man was holding his own, and his answers were very good—the organization’s various arms had been running full-tilt in the days following the incident, culminating with this official testimony from their leader—but it didn’t matter.  

The fact was the Preventers had told them there was a risk.  And someone somewhere within the ESUN had made a critical mistake and the President’s team had suffered because of it.  

But going after some low-level staffer was not enough.  The people wanted a scapegoat, and so they would get one.

Sally shook her head and sighed deeply.  The man would be out, which would mean another scramble to find a new Director even as they were surging to meet the security demands of the ESUN nations in light of this attack.  

Which brought her thoughts back around to the memo that sat on her desk.  An assessment from their intel division. [1] Given the target and the location, a tasking had quickly gone out to determine whether the attack was an effort to intimidate ahead of December’s colonial independence vote, or something else.  Almost all signs pointed to the event serving as a warning and most of the analysts reviewing the information available agreed. Except one. 

Sally smirked.  _  There is always one.   _

_ Speaking of… _  She glanced at her watch moments before there was a knock on the office door.  “Yes, send her in,” Sally said, muting the television and turning to greet her aid and the analyst who trailed several steps behind.  She extended her hand in greeting as the woman stepped inside her large office, the aid closing the door behind her as she entered. “Thank you for taking time out of your day, Agent Tolstoya.”  

Vasilisa Nikolevna Tolstoya [2]  struck her as nervous, having been called up from the depths of the building alone to see a member of the Preventers leadership cadre.  It was an unusual request, to be sure, and Sally had had to personally assure the analyst’s superior officers that they were not to be alarmed...but were also not invited.  

Sally offered Tolstoya what she hoped was an authoritative but reassuring smile and gestured to the table.  The two sat down together at one end, the analyst with her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped in her lap and out of Sally’s line of sight.  “This is about your take on the situation surrounding the attack last week,” Sally began, “but before we get into that, I’d like to know you a bit better.  You were an OZ soldier, correct?”

“Yes Ma’am.”  

“Where were you stationed?”

“At L1,” Tolstoya replied.  She swallowed before continuing, “At least until the battle that December.  I went home afterward. Joined Preventers as soon as I was allowed to.”

Sally nodded and let this information drift between them for a time.  Tolstoya fidgeted once and then stilled. At last, she asked, “Your superiors noted that you non-concurred with the assessment on the attack last week.  When pressed by upper echelons, they said you had a theory but had no evidence to support. I’d like to know what it was.”

“I believe there’s a stronger linkage to the Gundams in this attack than the system is giving credence to,” Tolstoya said.  “Gundam Zero Five attacked Lake Victoria early on in the 195 conflict. That’s documented.”

“As is the identity of Gundam Zero Five’s pilot,” Sally replied coolly.

The analyst nodded, “Yes of course.  And the President made no move to condemn the events in ‘95 even after the pilot came forward.”  Perhaps sensing Sally’s indifference, she was quick to add, “For the record, I think that was a wise decision.  For the unity of the Preventers and the ESUN. It means we’re moving forward, not backward.”

Sally pressed on.  “So you believe this was more retaliatory than forewarning?”

“To some extent,” Tolstoya said, “but that’s not all.”  She hesitated then, clearly uncertain about how to proceed.  

Sally watched her carefully, feeling that creeping chill in her spine.  “Go on,” she encouraged.

“When I was stationed at L1, our forces captured Pilot Zero Two. [3]  He was to be executed shortly thereafter when it was clear he wouldn’t talk.  I saw him, Ma’am. Short and scrawny, with a meter-long braid. Full of righteous indignation about being captured by the likes of us.”  Tolstoya’s eyes became unfocused as her thoughts turned inward. “He was just a kid. Not much older than my son is now.” 

After a beat, she shook loose of her thoughts and returned to the present.  “I thought nothing of him or my run in with him for years. Nearly forgot him entirely in the day-to-day since then.  But then I saw him again. In news cycles of the President’s box at the ESUN or more recent footage from this trip. He’s older.  And taller. And the braid’s still there, if a bit shorter.” She swallowed thickly and then concluded, “But then the news of the attack hit.  And I thought...if I could recognize him, then others could have too.”

Sally considered this for a time in silence.  Turning her eyes to the television across the room, she watched the live feed of the Director’s testimony flip back and forth between the man and the panel grilling him.  She mused aloud, “A Gundam pilot on the President’s staff.” She then asked, “Who do you think was the target of this attack?”

“The President, of course,” Tolstoya answered without hesitation.  “But...if I was the attacker, I’d probably be looking to take the pilot out as well.”  

“Who knows about this theory of yours?” Sally asked.  

Tolstoya shook his head.  “Only my superiors and yourself.  I didn’t think it...wise to share my thoughts further than that.”

Sally nodded at that and stood, the analyst hastily doing the same.  She extended her arm and shook the other woman’s hand again. “Thank you for talking with me.  It’s always a good thing to hear alternative viewpoints. But Tolstoya...I’d ask you to continue to keep this theory to yourself.  For the safety of the President and those around him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] aka Preventer’s Intelligence, Research, and Analysis (IRA) division
> 
> [2] Courtesy [tumbledrylemur](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbledrylemur/pseuds/tumbledrylemur) for the suggestion. ;)
> 
> [3] I couldn’t find any information on where Duo was captured the first time so picked a La Grange point. If someone else has information on where this actually happened, I will be happy to change it here.


	15. Chapter 15

**International Hospital  
** **Kampala, Uganda  
** **31 July 208**

“What was it you told me when our roles were reversed?” the small video of a smirking Trowa Barton asked.  “‘Getting shot  _ no es bueno _ ,’ I believe it was. [1]  Getting skewered by exploded wreckage isn’t much better, you know.”  

Duo chuckled darkly and ran his hand over the bandages on his left side, as if he could soothe the ache there.  “Yeah...not exactly. Neither is losing a spleen.”

“You can say that again.”

“That again,” Duo replied with a grin.

“Funny,” Trowa shot back, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.  But there was something about his eyes that suggested he appreciated the comment.  

“Heero didn’t think so,” Duo answered, sobering as he glanced furtively at the door.  “He’s been...weird.” 

“‘Weird’ how?”

Duo shrugged and then shook his head.  Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he mused silently to himself.  His prognosis was good, aided in no small part by the nanobots swimming in his blood.  As long as he remained infection-free, he’d be released in a few days to continue his recovery in Brussels.  This was a good thing, of course, but Heero had been...agitated since Duo woke up in the ICU about a week ago.  Not angry, per se. Just...twitchy, almost like he had been wound so miserably tight since the attack that he hadn’t quite been able to  _ unwind  _ himself again.  Duo feared it didn’t bode well for their trip back to Belgium, much less the cohabitation that would follow.  

“Scared, I think,” Duo answered at last.  “Like he keeps waiting for the worst. Like he’s on high alert because he can’t believe the other shoe hasn’t dropped yet.”

“Well,” Trowa began, as if easing himself into turbulent waters, “he’s not the only one.  You had all of us on edge until you were through the worst of it.” Then, as if he had thought of something, he asked, “You’ve talked to Quatre, right?”

“Yes, he was the first I called when Heero snuck in the phone.  Why?”

“Just checking,” Trowa replied, waving off his question.  “How are the meds treating you.”

Duo appreciated the diversion.  He stuck out his tongue. “I hate them.”

“Make you tired?”

“Yeah.  And trippy.”

“The did the same thing to me,” Trowa told him.  “Take them anyway.”

“It’s not that you  _ don’t hurt _ , it’s that you  _ don’t care  _ that you hurt, that it?” Duo asked with a grin.

“Precisely.  Appreciate the doctor-prescribed R&R.”  Trowa then added, “And don’t think too hard on Heero.  He’ll relax eventually. He just needs some alone time to see you’re going to be okay.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] See [this chapter](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7102375/chapters/16138912).


	16. Chapter 16

**Duo Maxwell’s Apartment  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **10 August 208**

Duo was at his wit’s end.  If he ground his teeth any harder, he feared he might split his molars.  He suspected Heero was in much the same condition, judging by the fight that had just erupted.   Things had gotten progressively worse since their return to Brussels. Duo had tried to soften the impact of his present state with light-hearted humor, but found his efforts only further aggravated his boyfriend.  The two of them collided violently one too many times as a result. And collision was such an ugly sound. [1]

“You could’ve  _ died!” _

“But I  _ didn’t.” _

“You went into cardiac arrest,” Heero countered.   _ “Twice.” _

Duo contemplated this for a moment.  As he felt the words coming, he knew they were a bad decision but was unable to stop himself.  “Strangely appropriate.”

_ “Duo!” _ Heero snapped, practically vibrating with exasperation.

“Heero,” Duo shot back.  “What do you want from me, huh?  What do you want me to do? Quit my job?”

Heero winced and shook his head.  “No, I’d never ask you to—”

“Then  _ what?” _

“Why can’t you  _ acknowledge  _ it?  You’ve been flippant and dismissive since you woke up, like you walked out with little more than a scratch.  Your heart kept failing. You were losing blood faster than they could give it to you. I could’ve just as easily arrived in Uganda only to take you home in a body bag.  And you don’t seem to  _ care.” _

Duo’s eyes narrowed and his blood ran cold, making him feel numb and distant.  Heero was right. And Duo knew it. But for the second time he felt himself unable to stop the words that came.  “If you want to cling to that possibility,  _ fine _ .  Maybe it’ll help the creative process.  But I won’t.”

He stayed long enough to see the hurt in Heero’s eyes but then his feet were taking him away, out of the apartment, the door slamming behind him.  Vision clouded and red, he found himself taking the maintenance stairs two at a time up to the roof, his thoughts a blur.

Bursting out into the Brussels night, Duo breathed deeply, trying to cool his temper.  He crossed to the safety railing and grabbed hold of the iron bars with two hands before leaning back to stare up into the dark sky overhead.  The stars blinked down on him with soft light, but so many of them were missing, drowned out by the city’s light pollution.  _ Maybe we still have a quorum _ , he thought.

_ Heero means well, _ the voice in his head whispered,  _ and you’re being defensive. _

“I know, I know,” Duo murmured aloud to the stars and the night, his anger fading like a bad dream.  As the confession crossed his lips, he very much wished he had the nerve to go back downstairs, but his courage had abandoned him.  And so he stood his lonely watch with the stars as his only company. 

How long he stood there, he wasn’t sure.  Long enough to feel the fool, judged by the stars and the moon as they glided across the sky overhead.  Long enough to regret. Long enough for the door to the maintenance stairs to open and close behind him.  Footsteps followed. They stopped a several paces behind him, hesitating.

“Can I join you?” Heero asked.

Duo smiled ruefully and nodded.  The footsteps came closer and then Heero was standing beside him.  The other man leaned over the railing, his shoulders hunching over his forearms.  They stood together in a silence which Duo found oddly comforting, patient. It gave him the courage he needed to speak.  “I’m sorry for saying those things to you,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that. It was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Heero replied.  

They shared another moment of quiet, the heavens their silent witness.  Eventually, Duo spoke again, his voice a hoarse murmur. “You say I could’ve come home in a body bag.  A lot of my friends  _ did _ .  And I’m left to wonder why.  Why did I survive, why did I make it out when all accounts say I shouldn’t’ve?  This isn’t the first time. It’s happened again and again and again. And there’s only so much survivor’s guilt a man can take before he starts going crazy.”

Duo swallowed thickly and continued, “The truth is...if I thought of every road I didn’t walk down, every scenario that could have been or might have been or should have been...I’d lose myself.  I’d bury myself in the agony of ‘what if’s and...I don’t know if I’d ever claw my way back out. So instead I focus on the ‘what next.’

“But I never thought of how that might have affected you,” Duo admitted, finally looking at Heero directly.  He found those blue eyes clear and attentive. “And we’re a team, right?” At this, he watched a small smile grace Heero’s face as he nodded.  “We can face this together,” Duo continued, “but we can’t look backward.”

“Okay,” Heero said, agreeing to the terms.  He then asked, “What do you need  _ now _ , to look forward?”

Duo felt himself start to crumble, his hands shaking where they clutched the railing.  “A hug would be a good place to start,” he said, the words sticking in his throat and betraying his fraying composure.  

Heero saw it for what it was.  Taking half a step forward, he opened his arms and pulled Duo into his embrace.  Duo let a shuddering breath escape his lips as he surrendered to Heero’s quiet strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Easter Egg! “Let It Happen,” Jimmy Eat World is the first track on [the LAM!verse Duo FST](https://8tracks.com/takinchimera/after-colony-beyond-death).


	17. Chapter 17

**Duo Maxwell’s Apartment  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **15 August 208**

“Heero...wait.”

Heero looked back over his shoulder at Duo, who hovered in the kitchen.  Eyes unfocused, he was absentmindedly toweling his hands dry by the sink.  Gears were turning in his head again, and so Heero took a hesitant step back toward him.  “What is it?” he asked.

There was a heavy pause as Duo seemed to mull his words.  Finally, tossing the towel aside, he brought his eyes up to meet Heero’s.   _ Turbulence _ , was the word that came to Heero’s mind at the look in his eyes and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.  

Then Duo took a deep breath spoke, “Before this goes on much longer, I have to tell you something.”

“Before what—?” Heero’s question was cut short as Duo gestured between them.   _ Oh. _  “What is it?” he repeated.

Duo’s eyes slipped away again and he leaned his hip against the countertop, crossing his arms over his chest, defensive.  “I think…” He shook his head and started again, “No, I know I’m asexual. I wanted to tell you now. I should’ve told you before.  But I...I was selfish and I didn’t want you to leave and I know that’s not fair but whenever an opportunity arose I couldn’t bring myself to tell you because I—I was happy with you, ya know, and I didn’t want to break it all to pieces.  But I wanted to tell you.  _ Had  _ to tell you.  I’m just sorry it took so damn long.  And now you have an out to leave, and I’ll be okay with that.  I promise I will. But now you know so…”

Heero let the flood wash over him, as he often did when Duo got to babbling through his nerves.  As Duo recovered, gasping after the deluge, Heero asked, “You’re ace?” Duo nodded. “How long have you held onto this without telling me?” 

Sheepish, Duo answered, “You know how I told Trowa about us? It came up then.”

“Since ‘05?” Heero asked, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice.  Duo winced at his tone, and Heero tried again, calmer, “If you’ve known since then, why didn’t you…?”

“I didn’t really  _ know _ though,” Duo countered.  “Not really. Not at first.  I...had to work a lot of things out before...before I could really...internalize it.”

“Question stands,” Heero told him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you why not.”  

“But I don’t understand,” Heero said, shaking his head and taking another step closer.  Duo didn’t meet his eyes. “Why would you think that I’d be angry, that I’d want to leave?”

“Because you’re not like me.  Because…” Duo clenched his teeth shut over the words, fighting with himself, still refusing to meet Heero’s eyes.

“Duo,” Heero began, finally reaching out to take one of Duo’s hands in his own.  “I told you when this all started that nothing would have to change. Not unless you wanted it to.  I meant it then; I mean it now.”

When Duo spoke, his voice was a murmur, almost defeated.  “What if what I want is not to have sex?”

“Then we don’t have sex,” Heero replied.  It was an easy answer, and Duo’s derisive snort confused him.  “I’m serious, Duo.”

“You say we wouldn’t.  You say we don’t have to.  But you want to.” Heero opened his mouth to protest but Duo cut him off.  “I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. I’ve gotten the same look from people on the street and in bars and on the bus.  I know what it means.”

“Objectively speaking,” Heero began, keeping his tone light, “you are an attractive man. Even with your crooked nose.”

Duo gave him a shy smile even as he protested, “Hey…” running a finger over the bridge of his nose.

Heero smiled back but sobered quickly.  Squeezing Duo’s hand with his, he said, “If it’s Honesty Hour, I’ll confess I have thought of it, wanted it.  But I never asked for it because I didn’t think you wanted to. Oddly enough, I was right, albeit not for the reasons I expected.”  He paused and then cautiously probed, “Does it make you uncomfortable when I look?”

“Not usually,” Duo replied with a noncommittal shrug, avoiding Heero’s eyes yet again.

“So ‘sometimes,’” Heero corrected.

Duo grimaced and shook his head, his gaze turning inward even as he took a stronger hold of Heero’s hand.  “It’s not so much that I dislike it. More like I know I can’t give you want you want. Or rather, I don’t want to, which is worse.  It’s not exactly fair.”

Something buried flared to life in the back of Heero’s head, painful memories rising to the surface.   _ No, this is wrong. _  “It’s not about what’s ‘fair,’ Duo.  It’s...it’s about wants and needs. Do I  _ want  _ to sleep with you?  Sure. Of course. But I don’t  _ need  _ to.”  Duo now moved to protest and Heero held up a hand to stop him.  “No, listen to me.” The words dragged Duo’s eyes back to his and they locked with his gaze.

Heero then said, “I  _ need _ your trust and your honesty and your support.  I  _ need _ to know that you’ll be there for me.  I  _ need _ to know that you feel something more for me than you do other people.  I  _ need  _ to know that you need me in those ways too.  I  _ want  _ your dark humor and ghost stories and demons.  I  _ want  _ to fall asleep listening to you breathe.  I  _ want  _ to be a part of your life for as long as I can.

“The difference,” Heero asserted, “is that the needs must be met for this relationship to work.  The wants are optional...and only happen if we  _ both  _ want them.”

The fragile beginnings of understanding and belief were manifesting in those blue-violet eyes and it made something in Heero’s chest quake.  With a steadying breath, he said, “I’ve had my boundaries crossed before. I would  _ never  _ want to make you feel that way.  But...but I don’t know where your boundaries  _ are _ , so you need to help me stay in the safe zone, okay?”

Duo pressed his lips into a thin line.  “What if I don’t know where they are?”

“Then we work together to find them and line them out so we don’t cross them.”  

“For instance…?”

“For instance.  Can I still hold your hand sometimes?” Heero asked, raising their interlocked fingers and shaking their hands. 

“Yes, of course.”

“How about hugs?  Afternoon naps on your couch?  A shared bed?”

“Heero—” Duo muttered, fighting laughter now, a wide grin crossing his face.

“You laugh, but these are serious questions,” Heero told him, but was unable to stop a smile from gracing his own lips as the tension between them melted away.  “Can I still kiss you?”

“I  _ like _ kissing you,” Duo told him, finally closing the remaining distance between them and wrapping his arms around Heero’s waist.  He drew Heero in for a gentle kiss, one that spoke of affirmations and confessions alike. When they parted, Duo pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “Thank you.”

Heero smirked.  “For what? Not being an asshole?”

Duo laughed and leaned in, resting his chin on Heero’s shoulder.  When he spoke again, Heero could hear the amusement in his words but something softer drifted beneath. “For being you.  For caring about me. And, yeah, for not being an asshole.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Relena Darlian’s Apartment  
** **Brussels, Belgium  
** **27 August 208**

Relena sat cross-legged on her desk chair facing her computer screen. Duo had set up a video conference line on the group’s shared secured server, and with only a note that read, “I have something to tell you,” he had wrangled all of them together.   _ A miraculous feat of convening power _ , Relena thought, fighting a grin and letting her eyes wander of the other attendees.

Wufei had joined moments before, still dressed for the office.  Once he had established that the meeting had  _ not  _ commenced, he had promptly diverted his attention to something off-screen.   _ Probably reading, _ Relena mused.  

Quatre was well on his way through his second cup of coffee just while they had been waiting for the meeting to actually start.  The room around him was dark, bringing his pale image to stark relief. Meanwhile, a bright-eyed Hilde Schbeiker was trading barbs and gossip with a yawning Trowa Barton, who sported shadows under his eyes and stubble on his face.  

They had had to schedule their call for after the New York Preventers Branch had officially closed business, giving Wufei enough time to ride the subway back to the apartment he usually shared with Heero.  This was convenient for Hilde on L2, which operated only an hour behind New York, but for the rest of them, they were burning midnight oil. Trowa was presumably wrapping up his final days with the circus somewhere in the far east before heading to the United States for his ‘sabbatical’ as they had all referred to it.  L4 time was synchronized with Saudi Arabia’s, and Quatre had responded to the early convening hour with extra caffeine. Relena found she was too wound up to need it, wondering what had led to the call. 

_ How prompt we all are, and none of us know what this is about.   _ Maybe that was why, though.  After the shared terror spurred by the possibility of losing Duo, maybe his request was reason enough.  

Just then, the sixth and final feed kicked to life and Heero Yuy appeared in the top right corner of Relena’s screen.  He nodded with approval. “Huh. It worked.”

“You sound surprised,” Hilde observed with a tired smile.

Heero shrugged.  “We’ve never done this before,” he explained.  “I wasn’t sure we would be able to get everyone through the pipe.”  His face shifted into one that alluded to some deeper acknowledgement, filing the thought away for future use.  “Now we know.”

As Heero spoke, Duo appeared on-screen beside him and smiled at the group.  “Hey guys,” he began. “Looks like we got everyone...except Wufei who’s busy ignoring me.”

Wufei looked up at his name and took himself off mute to reply, “Multitasking, not ‘ignoring.’”  But Relena noted that he then trained his gaze fully on the screen.  _ Suitably reprimanded,  _ she thought, fighting a grin, and turned her own attention back to Duo.

“Apologies first for the shitty time slot for some of you.  Apologies also for the split screen, but it’s easier to have this conversation once with all of you than to have the same conversation nearly half a dozen times with each of you.  We’d be up all night if that was the case.”

“What’s this about Duo?” Trowa asked.  Something in his eyes suggested he already knew.  Relena blamed it on the video quality.

Duo bit his lip and looked away from the camera.  Heero turned his attention from the screen to the man sitting beside him, nudging him gently with his elbow.  It helped him catch Duo’s gaze and after a beat, during which time it seemed like something unspoken passed between the two men, Duo took a deep breath and raised his eyes once more to the camera.  And then he said, “Before  _ anything else  _ happens to anyone, I have to tell you that...that Heero and I are dating.”

There was a tense pause and then Hilde and Quatre both choked,  _ “What?”  _ nearly simultaneously.  Wufei’s face froze in shock while Trowa leaned into his hand in a poorly disguised attempt to hide his smirk.

Relena herself muttered, “I knew it,” before clapping a hand over her mouth when she remembered she was audible.  This prompted laughter from a few of the others on the line.

“Wait—wait,” Quatre said, setting aside his coffee and leaning forward.  _ “Since when?” _

Duo and Heero exchanged a look.  Turning back to the assembled group, Duo replied, “Since summer 205.”

Cacophony answered him.  Relena punched the air in triumph.  “I knew it! I  _ told you _ , Quatre Raberba Winner, but  _ you  _ didn’t believe me!  How’s that for you? Take your Space Heart and  _ shove it!”   _ This prompted more explosive laughter from the group and a stunned, “Whoa,” from Duo himself.  

Quatre blushed and jabbed a finger back at her through the screen.  “This would  _ not  _ be the first time I’ve lost out to a woman’s intuition, thank you very much.  And honestly, why am  _ I  _ catching flack when  _ Wufei lives with Heero?” _

Red in the face and struggling through his laughter, Wufei at last chimed in, “Oh no.  Don’t you bring me into this. This has nothing to do with me.”

“In Wufei’s defense,” Heero added gently, “he was a bit...ah, distracted.”

Relena laughed.  “Yeah, by me,” and relished the renewed flush that appeared on Wufei’s face.

“So why are you telling us?” Trowa asked and then amended, “I mean...we know  _ why  _ but why  _ now?  _  What prompted this?  Are nuptials on the horizon?”

At the question, an incredulous bark of laughter escaped Heero before he could stop it.  Hiding his face with his hands, his shoulders shook with laughter. Duo leveled him with a look which spoke of the greatest depths of a lover’s exasperation before telling him, his voice flat, “Thanks.”  

This only caused more amusement for the man beside him who sheepishly replied, “Sorry…”

But then, as Duo turned back to the camera yet again, Relena had the distinct impression he was screwing the smile in place.   _ A mask,  _ she realized, and suppressed a shudder.  

Duo’s tone was light at first, sliding into more somber tones as he spoke.  “I wanted to tell you because...because this asshole told me a couple days ago that he wouldn’t have.  If the worst had happened. And that...that wasn’t okay. So now I’m telling you. So now you know.”

As the group of them considered this, something sour bloomed in Relena’s belly.  Would Heero really have not said? Would he have kept all of this—all three years of this—inside, bottled up and let it wither had...had they lost Duo?  That sour thing inside her had no doubt about it.

“So are you gonna kiss?”  The question disrupted the sudden descent of sobriety and all eyes turned to Hilde.  She was grinning, challenging, but her eyes gave away her secrets.  _ Diversion _ .

“What? What are you—?” Duo asked, flustered.  

“You realize none of us  _ really  _ believes you right?  You’ve given us no reason to.”

“The fuck—?”

“I don’t know, Hil,” Trowa intoned, egging Hilde on.  “This  _ is _ from the guy who can’t tell a lie.”

“Yeah!” Duo agreed, his face transparent in his offense.

Heero snorted and pointed at the screen.  To Duo, he said, “I just watched four people give you the most skeptical looks I have ever seen.”

Duo sighed and tossed his hands in the air.  “Fine, fine. You know what? You’re all a bunch of voyeurs, which—you know, isn’t exactly something I needed to know about any of you.  But fuck it. Fine.” And with that, he pulled Heero over to him by his shirt collar and kissed him soundly. 

The move brought cheers from Hilde and laughter from the others.  Relena applauded as she chuckled; her cheeks starting to ache from grinning so hard.  

When the two men parted, Duo asked the crowd, “Happy?”

“I mean, sure, I guess,” Wufei said, trying and failing to hide his amusement, “but Heero certainly is.”

And he was right.  The other man was all wide grins and flushed cheeks and bashful, furtive looks at the camera.  Duo watched Heero, and Relena watched Duo. There was such a deep tenderness there it nearly stunned her.  Looking up to meet their gazes through the camera lens, Duo offered a wry smile and told them only, “Mission accomplished.”


	19. Chapter 19

**NYC Preventers Branch  
** **New York, New York  
** **27 October 208**

“How’s morale, out there in New York?” Sally asked Wufei over the phone.

Her call had come unexpectedly and now she was asking about morale.  It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge. Something was up.  “Morale is fine,” Wufei told her. “We’re fairly insulated from the political  machinations  in Europe.  Also our operations weren’t as dramatically affected by the Director’s departure as I imagine Headquarters was.”  

“That’s good, but I was talking about  _ your  _ morale.”  There was laughter in her words; he could hear it through the phone.

“Um...fine?” Wufei glanced at his open office door, fully expecting the Branch Chief to walk in.  Such would be his luck. “What’s this about Sally?”

“I know who the new Director is,” she said, “or rather, I know who we’re putting forward for the job.”

“And you wanted to share this particular bit of gossip with me for some reason?”

“Wufei, I’m testifying on my suitability to lead this organization in three days.  I need to have a staffing plan by then. I’d like you on the team. What’s more, I’d like you as my Chief of Staff.

“But I know that’s a leap you might not want to take,” she continued before Wufei could respond.  “Preventers is a beast and—”

“When?”

There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line and he wondered if he’d managed to catch her off-guard.  For a moment, he wished he could see her face. “If I’m approved by the Oversight Committee, I’ll start immediately.  But we’ll be transitioning from the current team to mine over the course of several months—”

“When, Sally.”

“As soon as you’re reasonably able to disengage from your New York duties.  Let’s say by Christmas, shall we? So we can pass the baton over the holidays and make a clean start in January.”

Wufei flipped his pen between his fingers while he gnawed on the inside of his cheek.  Sally wasn’t kidding. Deputy at a Branch was infinitely different to serving as Chief of Staff for the entire damn organization.  It meant countless days of adrenaline and exhaustion and thankless work.

And yet…

“You can think on it, you know,” Sally told him, her voice teasing.

“I won’t need to think long,” he countered.

“Even so.  Weigh your options and get back to me sometime tomorrow.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Director’s Suite, Preventers Headquarters  
** **Geneva, Switzerland  
** **29 October 208**

They had spent all day preparing for the testimony tomorrow, and Sally knew she’d be doing the same all night.  The special assistant had run out with their orders and came back wrangling several bags of take-out containers.  The assembled group picked at their meals while the current Chief of Staff set aside testimony scripts in lieu of what he considered lighter fare: Sally’s staffing plan.  

The vast majority of the Preventers staff up for promotion were known entities, which she had assumed the current front office team would support—she had been right, judging by the approving nods around the room.  But then the Chief of Staff got to his successor and paused. “Your selection. For Chief of Staff.”

Sally waited.  Nothing further was said.  And so she prompted, “Yes?”

“The Gundam Pilot?”

“ _ A _ Gundam pilot,” Sally corrected him.  “Singular. There were five of them after all.”

“The Oversight Committee will never support this,” the man said, insistent.

“They don’t have to,” Sally countered.  “I get to choose my own staff. Same as every damn Director before me.”

“They will object to this selection.”

“And what happens when I object to their objection?” Sally shot back, crossing her arms over her chest.  “What are they going to do?  _  Fire me?” _

The man watched her for a long time, the rest of the staff around the table silent and tense.  She met his unwavering gaze with her own...and then she saw the subtle hints of crumbling resolve shift to acquiescence.  “This will be the only time this would ever work.”

Sally let herself smile.  


	21. Chapter 21

**Unit #1520  
** **Las Vegas, Nevada [1]  
** **1 November 208**

Trowa sat in a cheap plastic chair, his feet propped up in front of him on a ledge that served as the stucco building’s rooftop safety railing.  The tenants he had met thus far referred to it as “the patio,” though seven stories up it seemed more like a crow’s nest than anything. A small collection of plastic chairs similar to the one he current sat on, cracked in the desert heat.  A charcoal grill sat off to the side, as did a pair of picnic tables and wooden benches bleached by the sun. Cigarette butts had been swept into the far corner, and here and there was a stray bottle forgotten by the last clean-up crew. Trowa was fairly certain the landlord didn’t know the entertainers he had rented were using his roof as such and was grateful the maintenance crew hadn’t said anything either.   _ They probably make use of it too _ , he mused and tilted his head to look back up at the sky overhead.

The Vegas lights drowned out so many of the stars, but a few were still there.  Bright and stubborn in the darkness. They reminded him of distant friends. He smiled up at them.

The phone in his hand buzzed and he checked the time stamp as he answered the device.  “You know, there is a short list of individuals who are this on-schedule and I’m not sure you want to count yourself among them.  It’s not exactly your M.O.”

Duo laughed.  The sound was rich and deep.  Pleasant. Trowa allowed himself an unseen, thoughtful smile.  “Oh yeah?” Duo challenged. “Should I have called two minutes later?”

“Would certainly be less suspicious.”  Duo laughed again, and the pause allowed Trowa to direct the conversation elsewhere.  “What time is it where you are?”

“Morning.  Still ‘tomorrow’ for you I think, but just barely.”

“So you’re just getting started?”

The man on the other end snorted.  “Oh no, we’ve been rolling since dawn.  Or so it seems. This is some mandatory decompression so I don’t chew out a staffer.  We’ll call it a ‘study break’ seeing as you’re on a so-called ‘sabbatical.’”

“Hey, I  _ am  _ studying,” Trowa told him.  “The performers here...they’re really good.”

“Learning new tricks?” 

“Yeah, both in and out of the performance space,” Trowa told him, mulling over the last few weeks.  The cirque troupe that had taken him in boasted acrobats and contortionists and aerialists from around the Earth Sphere.  He and a handful of others had been selected to join them for a year of what amounted to an apprenticeship, learning routines and advancing their personal crafts.  It would have been uncomfortable if his cluster of mentors had not taken him in as one of their own from the start. As odd as it seemed to him, he had...friends here.  Friends who showed him the ropes of how to survive like a local in a city built on debauchery and where to escape the bright lights out in the desert. 

“I hope they’re treating you well,” Duo told him, his words teasing but intent sincere.  It was a dichotomy that Trowa had come to associate almost solely with the other man.

“Yes, very much.  I miss everyone and it’s odd to not be traveling, but...it’s not too bad.”

They talked about Trowa’s new-found friends and colleagues, his ‘coursework,’ his photography.  Trowa tried to inject a few questions about Duo’s own state of affairs, knowing the man was staring down the barrel of a 46-day deadline, but Duo seemed to always slide away with practiced ease.  After the third failed attempt, Trowa let it go and let Duo guide them where he needed the conversation to go.

Truth be told, Trowa was glad to hear from him.  It was hard to believe that a mere three months prior they had been so close to tragedy.  Again. If he had been the spiritual type, Trowa would have said they had all been born under bad stars.  Thankfully, perhaps, he was not.

“ Oye, Trowa — tell me a ghost story.”

The request took Trowa a bit aback.  “You haven’t asked me for one of those in awhile.” [2] He couldn’t recall the last time Duo had asked so directly for some morbid tale.  Perhaps years. Suspicious, he asked, “What for?”

He heard Duo hiss between his teeth.  “Let’s just say death has been a prominent theme the last couple months.  And ‘tis the season. Would you?”

“Alright,” Trowa agreed, and then expelled a weak laugh. “This one features one of my less bright moments though.  No judgment, okay?” Duo laughed at him, but acquiesced. Taking a deep breath, Trowa began, “Earlier this week, because it is the season as you said, I was driving around with some of the other tenants going to supposedly haunted places.  Old ranches, abandoned schools, flood channels, whatever. Didn’t see much of anything. 

“But then we came to this park.  I thought we were just taking a break from driving, you know.  It was late, well past midnight, so I figured some of them wanted a smoke break outside without having to worry about trespassing.  

“We walked over to a pair of picnic tables outside of this playground and it was then I saw this kid.  A boy. By himself on the swings. It’s odd for kids to be out at night; even odder for them to be unchaperoned.  But I thought maybe something was wrong so I start to walk up to him.

“One of the guys on the group asked what I was doing.  I told him that I was going to ask if the boy is okay.

“No less than six pairs of eyes hit me and all the hair on the back of my neck and my arms stands on edge, like the air is electric.”

“Oh my God…” Duo groaned, and Trowa could almost see the other man’s hackles raise.

“‘What boy?’ one of them asks me.  ‘The boy on the swings,’ I tell him.  Two of the women with us ‘Abort Mission’ so fast, they may as well have had ejection seats strapped to them.  One of the guys follows them without explanation. The ones who stay...they tell me there is no boy. 

_ “Oh my God…”  _ Duo said again, his voice raising an octave and trembling.

“Now, this doesn’t make sense to me at the time because I saw him.  I know I saw him. I saw him as clearly as I saw these people before me.  But I look back. No boy.

“...and that’s when the swing starts to swing by itself.”

_ “Oh fuck no.” _

“Oh fuck yes,” Trowa countered.  “Needless to say we didn’t stay much longer.  And the rest of them now know that I see things, so they’ve started calling me ‘Spooky,’ [3] which I’m not sure I appreciate.  A couple actually have a ghost hunting hobby and want me to come along.”

“You should do it.”

Trowa grimaced.  “I think I’d be a bad fit for what they’re trying to do.  Because five days later I’m still thinking about this kid at the park.  What happened to him? Why is here there? Is he stuck for all eternity being lonely on a swing set in the middle of the night?”

There was a thoughtful pause on the other end.  “Maybe…” Duo began, hesitant. “Maybe it’s daytime where he is, and he’s not really alone.  We just see him that way because that’s what we think ghosts are. Sad and lonely and trapped.”

“You saying we project our insecurities onto ghosts?”

“We do it with other people, so why not?”

Trowa considered this.  “Seeing as  _ I’m  _ the one who saw him, I’m not sure what to think about that.  But I never really thought of it that way. That would be a preferred situation,” he acknowledged.

After another thoughtful pause, Duo murmured into his ear, “Let’s promise each other one thing Trowa.  When we die and if we find ourselves back on this plane of existence...let’s promise each other that we’ll come back as happy phantoms, okay?” 

Trowa smiled softly, staring up into the night sky overhead.  “If ‘stardust’ isn’t an option, then yes. Happy phantoms it is.” [4]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I had a lot of readers suggest different locations for Trowa’s “sabbatical,” from China and Russia to France. I really couldn’t get Vegas out of my head - something in the debauchery of the Strip was calling to the character at this point in his storyline - and so off he goes.
> 
> [2] Trowa has the best ghost stories. This is established fact, which Duo [has made use of in the past](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786146/chapters/13335763).
> 
> [3] X-Files Easter Egg. Also, those from the area may recognize that Trowa’s friends took him to Fox Ridge Park in Henderson, NV.
> 
> [4] Shoutout to “[Happy Phantom](https://youtu.be/o8fJmpuPH7w),” by Tori Amos


	22. Chapter 22

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **29 November 208**

There was a knock at Heero’s open bedroom door, a smart rapping of knuckles on the wood frame.  He looked up from the journal he was scrawling in to find his roommate leaning against the door jam.  “I have something to tell you,” Wufei began, then nodded his head down toward Heero’s desk, “but it can wait if you’re busy.”

Heero glanced down at his journal and ink-stained fingers and shrugged, closing the book.  Turning to Wufei, he replied, “No, it’s okay. I have something to tell you too.”

This clearly piqued Wufei’s interest.  Cocking his head to the side, he took a step closer and asked, “What is it?”

“You came to  _ my  _ room to talk,” Heero said, leaning back in his chair.  “ _ You  _ go first.” 

“I got a job offer, back at Headquarters.”

Heero schooled his features against the grin that threatened to split his face in two and asked, “What job?” When Wufei hesitated, he harbored a guess.  “It’s with  _ her,  _ isn’t it?  With Sally.  What job?”

“Chief of Staff.”

Heero laughed.  “Congratulations,” he said, then added, “and good luck.  You’re going to need it.”

“I know,” Wufei sighed and shook his head.  “I wanted to tell you first, before the rest of the Branch.”  After a beat, he prompted, “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Heero tried and failed to keep a straight face.  “I got a job offer,” he parroted, “back at Headquarters.” 

Wufei exhaled an incredulous laugh and echoed, “What job?”

“Not Chief of Staff, that’s for sure.  Deputy Assistant Director, Counter-Threat (North), Western Hemisphere.” [1] 

“Didn’t...didn’t we do this once before?” Wufei asked. 

Heero chuckled.   _ Great minds may think alike but fools rarely differ. _  “Yes.  Disarmament and Verification.”  They had each shown up on their first days of their new jobs, stunned to see the other there.   

“Southeast Asia,” Wufei recalled.  “People are going to talk.”

“Of course they are, but not about me I think,” Heero told him.  “Your job is far more interesting. I’m just a desk jockey.” He shrugged then, feeling suddenly sheepish.

Wufei seemed to pick up on his discomfort.  “Congratulations and good luck, but you  _ won’t  _ need it.  Why did you take a position you’re overqualified for?”

Heero pressed his lips into a thin line before replying, “I’m not going back to Europe for the job.”

Wufei inclined his head at the answer and acknowledged it with a quiet, “Ah.”  He mulled this information over for a time before offering, “Well, look at it this way: when the two of you get utterly sick of one another, take comfort in the fact that there’s a six hour train ride between you.”

Heero scoffed at the suggestion but he’d be lying if Duo and he hadn’t already thought of that.  That knowledge only made him grin wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] If anyone needs a refresh, you can review the LAM!verse Preventers org chart [over here](https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/111701399104/on-a-scale-of-1-to-10-how-badly-do-i-not-want-to).


	23. The Vote, pt.1

**Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **17 December 208**

**11:58 EST (approximately 24 hours before the vote)**

The morning had finally crested to midday, the bright sky outside belying the chill in the air that promised snow.  Duo had arrived the day prior with the President’s team from Brussels, opting to stay with Heero and Wufei rather than the rest of the team.  His heart needed the moral support, lest it give out on him as he watched the hours tick down to the colonial independence vote. He had been a nervous wreck since his arrival, spending his waking hours making calls and typing frantic emails, his fingers flying over the touchscreen of his mobile.

And then an alarm sounded from the device and he finally tossed his phone onto the table, dramatically throwing his hands into the air.  “So it begins,” he said.

“...with you breaking your mobile?” Heero asked, eyeing him from across the table with some concern.  Beside Duo, Wufei snorted and tried to cover his amusement by throwing back the remainder of his coffee.

“That was the 24-bell.  No more engagement with representatives allowed, lest it look like ‘undue pressure.’  ESUN rules.” Duo leaned forward and braced his elbows on top of the table. Scrubbing his face with his hands, he heaved a sigh.  “Our Public Affairs team has officially converted into Talking Heads because none of us can say or do anything further. We’re on mandatory radio silence.”

Now it was Heero who laughed.  “‘Mandatory radio silence?’ How will you survive?” he teased with a reassuring smile.

“Not easily,” Duo acknowledged.

“Will you at least be there when it happens?” Wufei asked.  “At the ESUN, I mean.”

“In the box?”

“Or the gallery.”

“No,” Duo replied, shaking his head.  “No, it’s an invite-only affair. I don’t rank.  Though Relena did, I hear.”

“She gets in tonight from Brussels,” Wufei acknowledged.  A thought seemed to cross his mind and he asked, gently, “Would you want to be there?”

An odd combination of emotion roiled within Duo at the question.  Oddly, grief was among them, as if they had already lost. He grimaced at the sour taste it left.  “No,” he said at last, “no I don’t want to be there. I don’t think I would be able to hold myself together if it fails.”

“It won’t fail,” Heero assured.

“It could,” Duo groaned, burying his face in his hands and not for the first time in the last 24 hours wishing he could have a scrap of his partner’s confidence.

“It _won’t.”_

“It can’t.”  Duo turned at the quiet assertion to find Wufei contemplating his empty coffee cup.  “It _can’t_ fail.  We know what’s at the end of that road.  We know what will happen.” Dragging his gaze up to meet Duo’s and Heero’s combined attention, he repeated, “It _can’t_ fail.”

*****

 **Midtown  
** **New York, New York  
** **17 December 208**

**20:00 EST (16 hours before the vote)**

Relena moved about her hotel room, eyes glued to her mobile as she meandered aimlessly.  The time for direct lobbying had ended; the time for ‘expert’ opinions had arrived. Her newsfeed was overflowing with pundits and executives and retired ESUN personnel recounting processes and predictions.

 _Still anyone’s game_ , she thought, finally kicking off her heels and walking to her hotel room’s window.  Far below, the city stretched out around her. Fisting the sheer curtains in her free hand, she watched the fabric bind and stretch over her knuckles.  Could such a fragile thing as ethics and morality keep self-interest at bay? She wasn’t sure.

But—she knew many would argue—giving the colonies their freedom to self-determination felt so very much like paying reparations here on Earth.  The landlords of generations would lose their footholds on sovereignty in space and would suffer the consequences for it by extracting a core component of their economic well-being.  Was colonial independence then truly the ethical choice if it brought the world to its knees?

Relena sighed and shook her head.  Sometimes the pills that could save you were the hardest to swallow.  She felt as though they all stood at the razor’s edge of something incredible, but whether that was the cataclysm or the dawning of a bright future only the vote and the Earth Sphere’s response would tell.

*****

 **Apartment #718  
** **New York, New York  
** **18 December 208**

**02:00 EST (10 hours before the vote)**

“Oh!  Shit.”

Wufei looked up at the expletive to find Duo hovering at the door which led back down the maintenance stairwell, shocked into stillness at the sight of another person on the otherwise empty rooftop.  Neon signage and streetlights from the neighborhood cast dim technicolor across the space between them. As the seconds dragged on in silence with Duo hesitating near the closest escape, Wufei at last prompted, “Would you like me to leave?”  The words tasted bitter.

“No, you just...startled me is all,” Duo clarified.  He remained where he stood, shifting his weight between his feet for a moment before asking, “Do you want company?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, and then, “Yes.”  At the acknowledgement, Duo walked across the rooftop to where Wufei sat at the edge of the roof, his arms crossed over the safety railing as he watched the city around them.  

“Why are you stealing my M.O.?” Duo asked, his tone forcibly light.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Wufei said.  “Something you said.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.  I say lots of things.”

Wufei huffed but let the comment pass.  “About the vote. About what happens if it fails.”

“And _you_ said that it couldn’t,” Duo countered.

“But what if it does?” Wufei asked again.  Duo didn’t have a ready answer for him, and so he pressed ahead to shed more light on his turbulent thoughts.  “If it fails...Earth will have shown its true colors. Diplomacy will have failed. We will have tried it their way and been turned away.  

“But would it come to war again?  Would the fighting start again? And if it did...would I fight for the remnants of my people, scattered across the colonies?  Or the institution that gave them a second chance and a new start? Or the Preventers? Would any of them even ask me to? What would I say if they did?  What would I do?

“I fought for a better future for my home, only for them to never see it.  I woke everyday to burn down the Alliance’s instruments of oppression because I borrowed strength from my dead wife.”  Catching Duo’s surprise in the corner of his eye, Wufei grimaced. “Yes, ‘wife.’ She died fighting off an attack on our colony.  We were children.” He shook his head, then mused, “She didn’t like me much.”

“You weren’t exactly the most agreeable kid.”

Wufei turned to find Duo smiling at him.  There was a grief there that mirrored the fractured pieces of his own, but there was support too, quietly offered in the spaces between words.  He smirked back, taking the offered support. “I suppose not.” Turning back to the city street, he continued his musings. “But if it fails, what then?  Where will I go, who will I be with when the worst happens? If the worst happens.”

Turning to Duo once more, he found the man in profile, his face somber.  He looked so much older in this light, reaffirming that peace had been as heavy a load to carry as any other.   _He’s younger than me,_ Wufei had to remind himself.  “Where would you go, if it started again?” Wufei asked him.  

“I don’t know,” Duo admitted. Leaning forward over the safety railing, he wouldn’t meet Wufei’s eyes.  “By Preventers’ best estimates, I was sixteen when I joined. Piecing together everything that happened before, everything with dates, I was about eight when G found me stowed away on his ship.”

“Eight?” Wufei asked, startled.  

A weak attempt at a sad smile graced Duo’s lips.  “Half-starved and lonely and _pissed as all Hell_ .  G asked if I wanted to be his Great Destroyer of all things.  I said yes. Of course I did. I wanted to leave _ashes_ in my wake because that’s all they ever left for me.  ‘Independence’ didn’t matter. ‘Independence’ was a word grown-ups threw around to sound enlightened.  ‘Independence’ got people killed.”

Duo grew quiet, his eyes downcast at the city street several stories below.  Then he took a breath and continued, “But every day, month, year that went by...I started to draw the lines between the pain I knew and the oppression I didn’t understand.  And ‘independence’ started to matter a lot more. Vengeance may have driven me in, but this...amorphous, virtuous thing called ‘independence’ kept me in.”

Duo paused and pivoted, shifting to lean backwards against the railing.  He tilted his head back and looked up at the night sky overhead. Wufei watched him search out familiar constellations and satellites as he waited for him to continue.  “I don’t need my vengeance anymore. I’ve made my peace with my ghosts,” Duo said after a time, “so I don’t know where I’d land. If it started again.”

Wufei studied his friend, considering his next words carefully.  “I do. Know where you would be.”

Duo dropped his gaze to meet Wufei’s eyes again.  There was some bitter amusement in his voice when he spoke next.  “Oh? And where would you put me?”

“Where all good men seem to be: in the middle of the crossfire.”

Duo expelled a breath of a laugh.  “You’re lying to yourself if you think you wouldn’t be right there with me.  You have as much riding on this peace as any of us.”

“It’s not what’s riding on peace,” Wufei argued.  “It’s more...the alternative. If not independence, then what?”  

Duo sobered at the thought.  “‘Then what’ indeed,” he murmured.  

Silence stretched between them as they lost themselves in thought and the night chill.  Cabs passed below as New York’s populace rolled into the second wave of their evening. But something was amiss.  There was a tension in the air, as if invisible threads had been pulled tight between them all on this eve of new beginnings or tragic ends.  

Wufei closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  In less than ten hours, they would know. One way or another.  Accepting this, and acknowledging his inability to make time pass faster, he drew back from the roof’s edge and said, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.  Thank you for the company.” He then took a few steps toward the maintenance staircase from which Duo had appeared some time earlier.

“Yeah…” Duo murmured as he walked away.  But then called out to him, “Wufei.”

Wufei paused and turned back to find the other man watching him, half turned from the edge of the roof.  Duo’s posture had changed, the uncertainty from moments before gone. His eyes were hidden by shadows, but Wufei knew who he would see there.  That knowledge made him shudder.

“If it comes to it…” Duo continued, “and you find yourself charging off into the fray...do me the courtesy of telling me.”  

There was a sad finality to Duo’s words that made Wufei’s heart clench.   _Now you know where you stand too_ , he thought.  With a nod, he turned and walked away.

*****

 **Winner Enterprises Headquarters  
** **L4-V05001  
** **18 December 208**

**12:00 local // 04:00 EST (8 hours before the vote)**

“I need you to queue two messages for me,” Quatre told his assistant, Noor, during their midday check-in meeting to tick through the items on their respective tasks lists.  It always seemed, to Quatre at least, that these lists always got _longer_ as the day went on.  “One for if the vote passes.  One for if it doesn’t.”

Noor looked up from her notepad at the last and asked, as if disbelieving, “Do you think there’s a chance it won’t pass?”  

Quatre gave her a sad smile.  Noor had joined their team fresh out of university.  Bright and driven and attentive, and only a few years his junior.  But there was a generation gap nonetheless and she seemed so damn young.  “There is always a chance. A very good one too. Some of the arguments against are not entirely without merit.”  Quatre watched Noor visibly deflate at this and so he amended, “But I’ve been impressed with this President and his team.  If anyone can change the status quo, it will be them.”

Noor took a deep breath and nodded.  “Would you like me to ghost write any language, or...?”

“No, I’ll take care of that.  I’ll have something for you before the end of the day.”  Glancing down at his own notes scribbled on the screen of the tablet in his hands, Quatre started to drift away.  “I think we’re good for now. I’ll check back in with you if I’ve forgotten anything.”

“Of course,” Noor said and strode toward the door, but then stopped just short of leaving the office.  Turning back, she asked him, “Are you coming to the watch party, sir?”

Startled, Quatre turned his eyes on his subordinate and found her earnest.  Months ago he had approved use of the Headquarters’ large conference spaces for those who wanted to watch the results of the vote in real-time before heading home at the end of the day.  He had also approved a large expense report from their catering division earlier in the week, so he had some idea of the number of anticipated attendees. It seemed that more than half their personnel would be there, which was quite a feat.  “I didn’t realize I was invited,” he confessed.

“You approved it,” she reminded him with a wide smile.

“I know I did.  That’s very different from being _included_.”

Noor shook her head, as if exasperated with a friend, something which Quatre appreciated.  “You are most _definitely_ included.  I think the staff would appreciate you being there.  It’d be a clear show of solidarity.”

Quatre gave her a thankful, if a bit contrite, smile.  “In that case, I will be there.”

*****

 **Unit #1520  
** **Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **18 December 208**

**04:00 local // 08:00 EST (4 hours before the vote)**

“Fuck you doing up this early?”

Trowa turned to find one of his roommates ducking his head out from his bedroom door, bleary-eyed and only half-coherent.  The fellow acrobat blinked several times and yawned. Trowa offered a lopsided grin. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You never sleep.”

“This is also true,” Trowa acknowledged, raising his cup of coffee as if to toast the other man from afar.  “But there are some things on my mind that are important.”

“What could possibly be more important than extra shut-eye?  We have the day off,” the man reminded him, beginning to sound perturbed.

“The colony vote,” Trowa replied and glanced at his watch.  “Four hours and counting.”

His roommate snorted and shook his head.  “Wake me again when it’s like...t-minus 2 minutes, okay?” and then ducked back into the darkness of his room.

*****

 **ESUN General Assembly Headquarters  
** **General Assembly Building  
** **New York, New York  
** **18 December 208**

**11:00 EST (1 hour before the vote)**

Relena took a shaky breath and exhaled...slowly…

Final debate had just ended and delegations had dispersed amongst themselves to consider their voting positions.  They would return within the hour to cast their ballots. Relena felt no more assured of the outcome of the impending vote following the statements by various representatives.  It made her jittery...and angry.

Clenching her teeth, her eyes drifted from where she sat in the gallery down to the President’s box.  Reuson sat silent and unreadable next to his equally stoic Chief of Staff. Duo’s absence was notable, and Relena wondered if it was his L2 status that resulted in his exclusion or his personal decision to be outside the complex.  She wondered if that had been wise. She imagined having a colonial citizen employed by the ESUN itself on the debate floor may have cowed a few of the speakers from making outlandish remarks. _Or perhaps it would have had the opposite effect and stirred vitriol_ , she considered and had no doubt the President’s team had hedged their bets.

Relena then wished not for the first time she had been allowed to bring her phone into the chamber with her.  She was beginning to feel untethered and yearned for a connection to friends on the outside, to help her stabilize.

Just then, there was a warm hand taking hold of hers.  Startled, Relena turned to find Narantstseg [1] watching her carefully.  The older woman patted the back of Relena’s hand with her long fingers. Leaning close, she asked, “You okay?”

Relena nodded silently and squeezed the other woman’s hand.  “I just keeping thinking…” _Of him_ , her mind added, _and them_.  

Narantstseg nodded, as if reading her thoughts.  She offered a gentle smile and squeezed her hand again.  “Have faith,” she murmured. “It’s not over yet.”

*****

 **Conference Spaces, Winner Enterprises Headquarters  
** **L4-V05001  
** **18 December 208**

**19:30 local // 11:30 EST (0.5 hour before the vote)**

Quatre had spent the better part of the last hour milling among the throng of WEI personnel throughout the company conference spaces while the large screen in the adjacent auditorium played a livestream of events unfolding in New York.  The air practically vibrated with excitement and optimism...but there were pockets of skeptics. Most of the disbelievers had planted themselves in front of the projector screen, and far enough away from the general hubbub, their eyes glued to the broadcasters and scrolling ticker for news as it developed.

Quatre felt he would have gone crazy if he had taken the same approach, but as time drew short he found it ever harder to distance himself from the newsfeed.  He wasn’t alone, seeing more and more eyes turn to the screens placed throughout the spaces as the clock ticked down to the vote. _Over two hundred years of space colonization_ , he thought, _and we’re down to the last thirty minutes._  

Lost in thought, he didn’t register Dr. Rasleen Kapoor [2] until she was standing beside him, cradling a glass of juice between her hands.  “Quatre,” she greeted him. “It’s been too long! When are you coming back to your R&D portfolio? You’re taking up vital storage space on our server.”

“Rasleen!” he said, startled.  Pressing his hand to his chest he dipped his head in greeting.  “It’s good to see you up and out of the labs.”

“Well, you know,” the woman began, smirking, “there’s some big to-do up here apparently, so I dragged the team up to join the rabble.”  The comment earned her a chuckle from Quatre. They let their eyes drift back to the screen closest to them, watching in shared silence for a time. But then Kapoor murmured, “The more skeptical among us have started a pool.  Mathematical odds of success and all that.”

Quatre snorted bitterly.  “Any chance of adding a bet?”

“Only if you want to lose,” she told him.  “I’ve already clinched the ‘successful vote’ bid.  My colleagues have told me I’m the control case.”

At this, Quatre turned to find her quietly confident, her eyes glued to one of the screens across the room.  It made him smile with something that felt like a spark of hope. Turning away again, he told her, “In that case, I won’t make you split your winnings.  You deserve to clean out their wallets when it passes.”

*****

 **Outside ESUN General Assembly Headquarters  
** **New York, New York  
** **18 December 208**

**12:00 EST (0 hour)**

Heero was growing concerned with how tightly Duo had clasped his and Wufei’s hands as the minutes ticked by.  The man was likely to fracture their fingers if he clenched his fists much tighter. But in truth Heero knew he had focused on the pain so that he had something to focus on at all.

Earlier in the morning, the three of them had moved with the masses to the East River.  Duo had taken their hands and deftly wove through the crowds, growing closer and closer to to the gates of the ESUN General Assembly complex.  At Ralph Bunche Park, they could go no further, and so stood with the mob overflowing onto the street. Just inside the complex gates, one of the news crews had set up a massive screen, directed out toward the crowd.  The image was split between the reporter on the ground and the doors to the Assembly building.

And then they waited, only half paying attention to the commentator, letting the hopes and fears of thousands—millions?—wash over them.

“What if it doesn’t go through?” one nervous bystander mused aloud. “What if they vote ‘no?’”

“I’ll cry,” was one response.

“I’ll die,” came another.

“We’ll riot,” a third said.  “Those gates aren’t really gonna do much to keep us out.”

“They don’t want mayhem on their doorstep,” some other stranger reasoned.  “They’ll vote ‘yes.’ They _have_ to.” But there was a thread of desperate hope to the words, which suggested they weren’t so sure.

“I don’t think they think that they _have_ to do _anything_.  Preventers and NYPD are out in force.  I think I saw some national guard too on the way here.”

“If we riot, don’t hurt the Preventers.  They’re on our side.”

“I thought they weren’t on _anybody’s_ side.  I thought that was the point.”

“When have you _ever_ seen a Preventer agent launch tear gas at protesters?”

“...good point.”

“Duo, let go before you break my fingers,” Wufei urged, drawing Heero’s attention back to his two companions.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Duo muttered, his eyes still locked on the screen before them as the minutes ticked by.  He released Wufei’s hand but then threw an arm around the man’s shoulders, pulling him closer. Wufei went willingly, wrapping an arm around Duo’s waist, the two of them drawing support from one another.

 _Fear_ , Heero realized as he watched them and squeezed Duo’s hand with his numb fingers.  Fear of failure and lost causes. Fear of missed opportunities and tragedy and ghosts of generations past.  Fear that maybe, just maybe, humanity was not inherently good.

Heero then took a step closer and, disentangling his hand from Duo’s, mirrored Wufei’s position and entwined himself with his partner.  He caught a whisper of an appreciative smile from Duo as he pulled both him and Wufei close before Heero turned his eyes back to the screen.  

Time ticked by.  The crowd grew impossibly quiet, still.

And then—movement.

The camera trained on the doors of the General Assembly suddenly zoomed in on a grinning young woman, her Senegalese twists bound together with ribbon, as she emerged from behind closed doors.  Her smart pencil skirt was at odds with the track shoes on her feet. First out of the gate, she sprinted across the courtyard in front of the ESUN building, carrying a massive green flag. A small wave of other junior staff trailed behind her, waving similar green totems over their heads. [3]

The vote.  The vote had passed.

And the roar—the roar—the _roar_ of the crowd that erupted at the sight.

Between him and Wufei, Duo crowed and threw his fists into the air overhead.  He then promptly leapt into Heero’s arms. Stunned, Heero could do little more than hold him close.  But too soon the man had been pulled away into the maelstrom of the singing, dancing, crying mass of humanity who had flooded the New York streets.  

Left in what felt like the eye of the storm, Heero turned his attention to Wufei.  The man stood shaking next to him. He had covered half his face with his hands, tears streaming from his eyes which he had clenched tightly shut.  At the sight of it, Heero’s world blurred suddenly and he blinked to clear his vision. Reaching out, he pulled the other man into a tight embrace, which Wufei readily returned.  

“It’s over,” Wufei said, his words heavy with emotion.

“It’s just starting,” Heero countered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Reminder: Narantstseg is Relena’s friend, coworker, and compatriot at the ESUN
> 
> [2] Reminder: Dr. Kapoor works in the R&D section at WEI
> 
> [3] Inspired by DC tradition, the SCOTUS “running of the interns,” wherein younger staff (usually interns) sprint across the plaza to delivery the Court’s decision.
> 
> [*] The wonderful [mondaijo](http://mondaijo.tumblr.com/) did this beautiful piece of Wufei, Duo, and Heero the moment The Vote passed which you can see here on [Tumblr](https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/178282158599/mondaijo-commission-for-lifeaftermeteor-for) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/277001).


	24. The Vote, pt.2

**Unit #1520  
** **Las Vegas, Nevada  
** **18 December 208**

**10:00 local // 13:00 EST (+1 hour after voting)**

“I just got off the phone with Cathy,” Trowa said to the man on the other end of the line, “and I have had no luck hailing the other three.”

“I imagine they’re out celebrating,” Quatre told him with a hearty laugh.  “I expect the volume of people in New York has buried the grid as much as it has the streets, judging by the media coverage.”

“Yeah, well New York isn’t the only place they’re celebrating.”  Glancing over his shoulder at the ruckus behind him, Trowa intoned, “I don’t know how many bottles of champagne we’ve gone through and it’s not even noon.  People are, uh, quite excited.”

When news hit, cheers had echoed across the neighborhood and the building.  Moments later a small cluster of colonial tenants had appeared at the door and drawn Trowa and his roommates out of their apartment.  They headed to the roof of the building to bask in the sun and the heat and the surreality of it all. Independence. Freedom. The end of one era and the beginning of a new one.  

Dropping down to perch on the ledge in the corner of the roof, Trowa squinted up into the sun from behind his sunglasses.   _Hell of a way to start the day_ , he mused silently and idly wondered where to go from here.  

“What’s on your mind?” Quatre asked.

Trowa smirked, and wondered if maybe the other man had reached out across the vast distance that separated them. He didn't ask.  “What happens now?” he asked after a time. “Where do we go from here?”

A thoughtful silence followed, and Trowa briefly worried the connection had been dropped.  But then Quatre said, “Anything. Everything. We’ve entered the Unknown. The rules have changed.  And people are...elated, we’ll say.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Trowa asked. “Because I’ll tell you how I feel.” Turning away from the festivities on the roof, he continued, “I feel unmoored.  And kinda breathless. Like there’s not enough oxygen on the whole damn planet. It’s not a pleasant feeling.”

More silence on the other end of the line.  Trowa closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe deep.  The scent of cigarette smoke and charcoal drifted past him, the sound of glasses clinking and laughter and tinny music off of someone’s mobile reminding him he wasn’t alone, wasn’t out in the ether, wasn’t...drifting.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Trowa answered without hesitation.

“It will be alright,” Quatre assured him with quiet certainty.

Trowa took a deep breath, latching onto the words like a lifeline, a tether to something tangible and real. Was this what hope felt like? This fragility? He didn’t know.

But he knew he felt stronger with Quatre on the line.

*****

 **Midtown  
** **New York, New York  
** **18 December 208**

**20:00 EST (+8 hours after voting)**

The moment Relena opened the door, she knew who would be there and promptly lept into Wufei’s ready arms, kissing him soundly.

“Inside, inside,” he chided when they parted, setting her gently back down on her feet.

“So in Iceland I can give you public displays of affection, but not here in New York?” Relena teased him as she took him by the hand and walked back into the suite, Wufei closing the door behind them. “And if it’s my security detail, you don’t need to worry.  They don’t care about you,” she added for good measuring, throwing her arms around Wufei's neck.

“For that, I’m grateful,” he acknowledged, his hands coming up to rest at her waist. “I don't know if I could handle an armed stand-off tonight.”

Relena pulled back to study him, her hands resting on his shoulders. He offered her a tired smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned. This was a cause for celebration, and yet…

“I'm alright,” he answered, but his gaze dropped away, not really seeing her. “I think I may have been sick for the last eight hours, but other than that…”

Reaching up, Relena cradled his face in her hands, her thumbs caressing his cheeks as if to brush away some invisible ache. And then she waited, patient and silent. The only sound in the suite their breathing.

And at last, he said, “I wish…”

But he could say no more. He didn’t need to; she could read it in his eyes, feel it in his skin. _I wish…_

_That they could have seen it._

_That they could have felt it._

_That they could have known._

_That they had lived._

Relena swallowed thickly, her thoughts turning to her father. His dark eyes that had seem so much bitterness in the world and had always hoped for, worked for kindness. “I know,” she told him, feeling tears well in her eyes, “me too.”

*****

 **Manhattan  
** **New York, New York  
** **19 December 208**

**00:00 EST (+12 hours after voting)**

“What colony?”

Heero suddenly found a young woman with gemstone eyes and freckles standing before him, having materialized out of the crowd of revelers.  She waved a tube of something before him and gestured to her own cheek which sported ‘L4.’

“L1,” he answered.

“May I?” she asked, and Heero nodded.  Uncapping the tube, she reached out and scrawled on his cheek.  Then, once complete, she stepped back to admire her work before turning to Duo.  She then laughed when he gave her a wide, toothy grin, blue-violet eyes flashing.  “Oh love, I don’t even have to ask with you,” she said and waved him closer.

“Are you using lipstick to do this?” Heero had belatedly asked as he watched her hold Duo’s chin securely between her fingertips and draw a large ‘L2’ on his cheek in red lacquer.

“Kisses from space,” the woman offered as explanation before bounding away again, disappearing back into the mob of humanity that had taken to the streets and all but shut down Manhattan in the hours since the vote.

After finding one another again in the sea of people outside of the ESUN Headquarters—a feat in and of itself, Heero knew—they had followed the revelers deeper into the city. The marchers were joined by ever more members as the wave moved across downtown, flooding out from skyscrapers and bodega alike.

Wufei had broken off once they were close enough to their apartment for him to do so. Around the same time, Duo had acquired a flag bearing the united colonial colors. From where, neither he nor Heero could recall. He had repurposed the banner as a cape, the fabric fluttering behind him as they continued to walk the streets. The sight of blue, white, and black bands [1]  adorning Duo’s shoulders did something to Heero’s insides. It was an oddly euphoric clenching around his heart.

And now as the day wore itself into evening and they crossed the threshold into freedom, _real_ freedom, Heero thought he might have finally found on the words for what he'd been feeling. “We’re here because of you, you know,” Heero told Duo.  

He expected the derisive snort that came in response, and he drew up short. Turning on his partner, Heero reached out to take Duo’s face between his hands.  Any further protest died on Duo’s lips, his blue-violet eyes betraying his surprise. Heero met those wide eyes with all the fire that threatened to spill from his lips.  He forged his words into steel and said, “I know what it took to get here. I’m proud of you.”

Heero watched the walls around Duo begin to crumble, without a place to escape, while his eyes searched for something in Heero’s.  He took a sharp, shuddering breath when he found it. Leaning forward, Duos lips met Heero’s with a searing kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I went through an exercise not long ago, coming up with federated La Grange island cluster banners. You can see [some options over here](https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/173649686354/colonial-colors).
> 
> [*] The super awesome [Nachte](https://www.pillowfort.io/Nachte) also did a piece of Heero and Duo celebrating on the streets of Manhattan. You can see it on [Tumblr](https://lifeaftermeteor.tumblr.com/post/176570036314/napalmarts-a-wonderful-commission-i-got-to-do) or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/posts/68586).


End file.
